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Story of Daisy 


A TRUE RECORD OF THE LIFE OF A 
LITTLE CHILD. 


/ 

Bv MARY J. CRAVENS. ^ 

Cb > 


“The eager fate that carried thee, 
Took the largest part of me.” 


ALI. RIGHTS RESERVED. 


TOLEDO, OHIO: 

THE B. F. WADE CO., PRINTERS, 


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22173 


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PREFACE. 


The following record of a brief life came from the 
heart of a mother. It contains nothing studied or embel- 
li.shed. It is a simple transcript intermingled with obser- 
vations at the moment or reflected from the mirror of 
memory. 

Its publication is an afterthought suggested by the 
intimation that it might prove a helpful contribution to 
the literature of the human heart. 

With such a hope, this little venture is committed to 
the veiled future. 


The Father. 








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INTRODUCTION. 


This little work, the votive offering of a mother to 
the memory of her child, was not written with any 
thought of publication. 

But it having become known to friends that there was 
such a manuscript, and some having been permitted to 
read it, who found a certain unusual flavor in the simple 
narrative — the flavor of perfect veracity and naturalness, 
the idea was broached that it should be given a wider 
circulation through the medium of print. To this the 
author has Anally consented, and the tiny heir not of her 
invention but of her experience is, after many years, born 
into the world of literature. 

Many will read it for the sake of its idyllic .story, for 
its descriptions of a bright young life lived near to the 
heart of nature. Others will find its chief charm in its 
unconscious portrayal of a pure and sensitive nature 
utterly dominated and controlled by the sacred and mys- 
terious maternal passion, in the light of which 

“All men beside seemed but as shadows.” 

A third class will find its deepest interest in the contribu- 
tion it offers to the study of child nature. Its details were 
noted, as is self-evident, by an educated and intelligent 
woman, but by one who differs from many later recorders, 
in that she had no preconceived phsycological theory to 
maintain by its means. Facts and theories do not always 
coincide. As an instance of this, take the inferences of Prof- 
essor Baldwin, of Princeton, in his ‘ ‘ Mental Development of 
the Child and the Race,” so carefully elaborated by Pro- 


6 


INTRODUCl'ION. 


fessor Ro3^ce, of Harvard, in his essays on the ‘ ‘ Implica- 
tions and Anomoliesof Self-Consciousness,” and compare 
them with some facts as here given. The infant — Pro- 
fessor Royce assures us — has no self-consciousness in- the 
sense of the Me, and the not Me, but gains it gradually 
through imitation, dramatic impersonation, etc., etc. 
However that may be, there is certainly a very robust 
little Bgo, or “Me” manifest at the age of two and a 
half years in an incident in this brief story where the 
little girl entreats a supposedly tired God to ‘ ‘ take a nap’ ’ 
leaving an angel to take care of the world at large, and 
adding — ” but I can take care of myself.” 

The student will find many discrepancies between the 
facts of this absolutely veracious narrative and current 
theories. It is hoped that Mrs. Cravens may at some 
future time compile from her carefully kept journal a 
much more minute account of her daughter’s life. For 
if a little child shall lead a world into a true philosophy 
of life, the phild’s works and ways must be watched and 
reported by those unbiased as well as conscientious 
observers, who will simply 

“ Draw the thing as they see it 
For the God of things as they are.” 

M. F. Cummings. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Chapter I 9 

Chapter II 15 

Chapter III 19 

Chapter IV 25 

Chapter V 29 

Chapter VI 33 

Chapter VII 38 

Chapter VIII 45 

Chapter IX 48 

Chapter X 55 

Chapter XI 64 

Chapter XII 65 

Chapter XIII 77 

Chapter XIV 87 

Chapter XV 93 

Chapter XVI 98 

Chapter XVII 105 

Chapter XVIII 109 

Chapter XIX 113 

Chapter XX 119 

Chapter XXI 127 

Chapter XXII 137 

Cypress IvEaves... 145 


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Story of Daisy. 


CHAPTER I. 


Owing to the sickness and sad loss of my dear mother, 
my husband and myself passed the third year of our 
. married life at my father’s, — the Old Homestead, I always 
call it — a place where the sun-light seems to fall more 
goldenly than elsewhere, and the air breathes of all things 
most sweet and precious, — a place where hearty welcome, 
good cheer, and generous abundance smile upon all who 
come within its ever open, hospitable door. 

The house is a large, old-fashioned one, with a wing 
on the west, standing on an elevation, in the midst of 
ample grounds, planted with fruit trees on the north, east 
and west sides. The south side — the front, — is a gently 
sloping lawn ending at the roadside, with a supporting 
wall, down through which were stone steps leading to the 
highway ; and a little to the right of these, a platform 
only one step lower than the lawn from which to enter 
carriages. The lawn is covered with grand old maples, 
locusts, and some evergreens, with here and there rustic 
seats where comfort and enjoyment may be found in the 
cool delightful shade during the heat of summer. 

In the distance on the west, looking beyond the valley 
in which nestles one of the lovliest of little villages, bor- 
dered by the winding gently-flowing river, Oatka, extends 
a range of some of the loftiest hills in that part of the 
state, the varied outline of their summits bounding the 
western horizon. On the eastern slope of these hills. 


lo 


STORY OF DAISY. 


reaching down into the beautiful Oatka are little clumps of 
woodland, and fields, with their varied crops, and farm houses 
with lovely surroundings extending for miles, which make a 
most picturesque landscape. To the south of the house 
are small elevations of various heights, separated by 
watered dales, and a little further on a maple sugar 
grove, which had the sweetest attraction in the early 
spring, and was all the year a delightful spot for the eye 
to rest upon. 

It w'as here where my own child life and youthful 
days were passed, that our darling first saw the light, 
November 13, 1857. None but a mother may know the 
tremulous joy, the inexpressible bliss which filled my 
heart when the tiny form first nestled to my bosom. Yet 
what a deep, tender responsibilit}^ ’is realized by one, who, 
for the first time feels that into her care is given the guid- 
ance of such a pure, white-souled, helpless little being. 
Her father decided when she was but a few days old that 
she was “an irrepressible!” His particular test was, 
when she lay on the nurse’s lap to be dressed, instead of 
her head hanging listless and helpless, as is usually the 
case with babies, she held it up as though to see what 
was going on. He, in his great interest and curiosity, 
gently pressed it down, but up it came again. He often 
spoke of that’ incident as illustrative of her after life, 
always up-looking, active, and in some ways irrepressible. 

The first of March following her birth, we removed to 
a cottage a short distance from the old home. There with 
the birds and the flowers and all the sweet, gentle, inspir- 
ing influences of nature, her dear little life also was un- 
folding its beauties and sw^eets to the inexpressible joy of 
eager, hopeful loving hearts. 

Parental experience with baby life — w^ho can portray 
its lights and shades ! What anxious solitudes, what ex- 
quisite delight ! The joy of the first smile of recognition. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


1 1 

the terror of the first ailment, and all the intense interest 
in the daily development of body and mind. 

Her papa began to call her Daisy for a pet name when 
she was but a few weeks old— she came to be known only 
by that name, although he had given her at first that of 
Mary, for me. When she was a year old we made a 
birthday party, had a family gathering of all the aunts, 
uncles, and cousins, and one grandpa — the other was in 
a far off city, and the two grandma’s had long since gone 
from, the earthly home. Many sweet mementoes of the 
day were brought her. A beautiful ring was put upon 
her tiny finger, which she profusely kissed by way of 
thanks ; and she was greatly delighted with a wreath of 
flowers which sometimes hung on her arm, and sometimes 
graced her head, beneath which smiled a . bright- and 
happy face on all present. No sovereign in the world has 
so many willing subjects, so many loving admirers as the 
baby-boy‘apd the baby-girl. She walked across the room 
that day for the first time, a feat more important to the 
household than all the affairs of state or nation. She 
began to talk before she w^as a year old ; her first sen- 
tence — “Papa, papa go yiyi,” wishing her papa to get the 
horse and carriage and give her a ride. She greatly en- 
joyed riding and had much opportunity for it, her papa 
having charge of tw^o parishes in neighboring towns w^hich 
required frequent visiting until she was nearly four years 
old. She became a great favorite with both societies ; per- 
haps it was because she was “the minister’s child,” yet I 
hardly think so. As she grew older, although not hand- 
some, her dark beautiful eyes, and golden brown curls 
made her attractive, and she was bright, chatty and affec- 
tionate. 

In the spring of 1859 we removed to the towm of D — , 
one of the most beautiful in Western New York — noted 
for its handsome residences and beautifully shaded streets. 


12 


STORY OF DAISY. 


Daisy, as do most children, greatly enjoyed playing on 
the sidewalk. Like the birds and flowers, she seemed 
truly to live only when out in the free summer air. This 
was the summer before she was two years old, but every 
morning after the sweet loving kiss, the first thought and 
question with her would be, ‘ ‘ Mamma, is it sunshiny ? ” If 
I said yes, — “is it Sunday? ” If I said no, — “ Can I go out 
to play?” Yes. Then she could not be up and dressed 
too quickly for the delight before her ; and the hour for 
nap and lunch were unwelcomed interruptions to the joys 
of the walk with the motherly little girl who loved to 
look after her, and other little ones who came to enjoy the 
play just before our door. It was most amusing that fall 
to see her and her nearest little mate, Mattie, as they 
often marched one behind the other with measured step, 
and make-believe torches held upright in their little hands, 
singing, “Torch-lights pecession, torch-lights pecession ! ” 
They had seen some of the parades just introduced in 
those days, and with the child’s natural love of imitation, 
thought they would have one of their own. In this same 
fall before she was two, for hygenic purposes, according 
to the advice of our next door neighbor, we engaged in 
our first and only attempt at making wine, as some very 
rare black cherries grew in our yard. Her papa, as a 
novelty, was trying to assist a little in pressing out the 
juice of the cherry. She felt .she would like to take a 
hand in the work also, and particularly wanted -to assist 
her papa ! Of course her help was but a hindrance, and 
he said mildly to her two or three times, ‘ ‘ Daughty , keep 
out of papa’s way,” but she persisted in returning to him, 
it being as natural for children as for older ones to have 
unusual interest in unusual things; when, in order to 
make more effective his admonition, he gave her a little 
tap on the shoulder. She was greatly surprised and in- 
dignant at such treatment, and turned upon him “with 


STORY OF DAISY. 


13 


fire in her eye,” as though she would annihilate him, and 
he a man over six feet in height and weighing more than 
two hundred. He was greatly amused, “at the spirit she 
manifested, a disposition that would not be imposed 
upon.” He said she looked fierce as a little tiger when 
she came toward him, but a kind word and a gentle caress, 
and she was subdued in a moment. 

A short time after this she did something, I do not 
now recall what, for which I began a little reproving talk ; 
she listened with a very submissive air, but I uncon- 
sciously dwelt upon the matter a little longer than desir- 
able to her, when she quietly looked up into my face 
and said, “Mamma, I don’t think it is very pleasant to be 
always talking on one subject, do you?” There was no 
impertinence in her manner, nor appearance of thinking 
there could be any harm in what vShe said, but her sensi- 
tive nature very quickly appreciated the lesson, and 
wanted to be relieved from any further humiliation. I, of 
course, quite suddenly desisted, realizing more fully than 
ever before, that parents often perhaps subject their 
children to unnecessary pain when laboring, as they think, 
to keep them from doing wrong, but in fact to make per- 
fect children of them! Too many precepts have a de- 
pressing rather than a helpful effect. 

But there was a subject of which she never tired 
hearing, andthatwasapicture connected with herself which 
her papa had painted to her imagination since she could 
first comprehend anything. She was to have a little pony 
of her own to ride and she should have a plush saddle, a 
silver mounted whip, a riding habit, a hat ^nd plume, 
and a little dog all her own 1 And with these she was to 
go wherever she pleased. O, how her large dark eyes 
would sparkle and dance as she saw herself galloping 
away over hill and dale through the country, her little 
dog following after. A great love w'as thus cultivated in 


H 


story of daisy. 


her for these animals, and her interest in them increased 
with her years. One of her first expressions was, — 
“Dood bye, Wow!” — as she looked back over her papa’s 
shoulder, when one day leaving her aunties, who had a 
noble Newfoundland. 

She very early showed great fondness for music. 
When her papa would be leaving home for a few days, 
he would take her in his arms and say, “Well, Daughty, 
what shall papa bring you when he comes home?” Her 
response nearly always would be, “O, some mucis, 
papa,” as she called it. She did not try to sing early, 
but would listen with the most rapt attention when others 
were singing, or to instrumental music. 

I usually had the care of her myself when she was quite 
young and could not feel easy to trust her with any one else, 
although I was much of the time very feeble in health. 
One time I specially recall when I was somewhat danger- 
ously ill, when bedtime came for my darling, she could 
not be pacified to go to sleep without ‘ ‘ feeling of mamma’s 
cheek. ’ ’ That had been her habit from infancy when go- 
ing to sleep or when sick, or in any trouble, and indeed 
whenever she was near to me. But the nurse said no, she 
must not come near me that night. They removed her, 
but the pleading wail came to my ears so piteously, that 
I said, “ O, bring her to me, I cannot have her grieve so 
for mamma while I am still here. ’ ’ With what ecstatic joy 
the sweet lips pressed mine as she was laid beside me ; 
then nestling down close to me and putting her soft, 
plump little hand on my cheek, she instantly dropped off to 
sleep. I can feel the sweet pleasure even now of that 
satisfying hour, and the gentle pressure of that dear little 
hand through all the sad changes the years have brought. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


15 


CHAPTER II. 


Our little girl always greatly enjoyed visiting at the 
old homestead. She instinctively appreciated its quiet 
joy and beauty, and revelled in its delightful air and free- 
dom-breathing happiness. Her grandpa hailed her visits 
with joy. “She was so chatty and wise,’ ’he said, “so 
observant of everything even when very young. ’ ’ The 
two would wander about the grounds together, she ques- 
tioning and he answering about what they saw and heard, 
until tired, then seat themselves to rest. How often have 
I seen them, the old white-haired man and the little curly- 
headed girl, side by side, she with one hand resting in his 
on his knee and the other pointing to the far off western 
sky, just after a beautiful sunset. They would generall}" 
seat themselves in the summer on the carriage steps at 
the foot of the lawn at that time in the evening to see the 
sun go down behind the hills. How her eyes would 
dilate and glow as she watched the changing, gorgeous 
hues which lighted up the earth and sky, and glorified 
the closing day. We could see how deep was the feeling 
awakened by the beauty before and around her, although 
she was unable to give expression to it. 

She had been taught that God was a father and had 
the care of the world and all things in it. One night 
when she was about three years old, as we were on our 
way to an annual association, we stopped over night at 
the old home, and on putting her to bed a little earlier 
than usual, that she might be rested for the long ride and 
meeting of the next day, she said to me, “Mamma, I 


i6 


STORY OF DAISY. 


should think God would get tired too ; he ought to have 
a rest like us ; I am going to speak to him, ’ ’ So she said : 

‘ ‘ God, I know you are tired of taking care of everybody ; 
of the birds and flowers and everything; I am sorry for 
you. Won’t you have an angel take care of them for a 
little while, and you lie down and rest? I can take care 
of myself.” Then she said to me, “Mamma, don’t you 
think he will take a nap?” Very precious her tender, 
sympathetic heart seemed to me, although then exercised 
in rather an unusual way. 

Not long after we were again at the old home — in- 
deed, during the summer time hardly a week passed with- 
out a visit there, as it was a beautiful drive from our own 
home, only eight miles distance. This time she became 
very much interested in a little swallow which had its 
nest in the old wood-shed. She watched the frequent 
visits of the little mate, the chattering, loving talks be- 
tween the two, seemingly about the little nest and the wee 
eggs in it, and perhaps the sweet expectations the future 
had in store, and wondered “if they understood each 
other” and were “as happy in their little home as papa 
and mamma were in theirs. ’ ’ She spent most of the day in 
speculating about them, wondering when their little 
birdies would come, asked them if “they wouldn’t please 
bring them tomorrow,” when she threw them a good- 
night kiss just at twilight. The next morning about ten 
o’clock to her surprise and great grief, she found the one 
which occupied the nest lying dead on the floor. How it 
came there no one knew. She took it carefully up as a 
mother would a babe and shed many tears over its hapless 
end ; then she wanted a little box in which she put some 
freshly gathered moss, laid the little bird on its soft 
green bed, covered it over, and wanted me to go with her 
to bury it. She laid it away under an evergreen in the 
front yard; then I had to write on a small board — “Little 


STORY OF DAISY. 


17 


Swallow — Died, June, i860,” and place it at the head of 
the little grave. * 

We, decided, on the first anniversary of our darling’s 
birth, that we would have a family gathering at each re- 
turn. The third had now passed, the last two having 
been as happy occasions as the first. She had been a 
great pet with all of the relatives, being the first and only 
grand-daughter in a large circle of six families ; but now 
she had a little girl cousin a year old, — Tizzie her name — 
to share in affections, attentions, and favors. A wondrous 
gift has the human heart, — that of enlarging enough for all 
new dear objects without displacing the idols already there. 

Young as was our Daisy at this time, a characteristic 
to which my physician referred when she was but a few 
weeks old as being particularly prominent — firmness — 
was a source of some anxiety, I find, in looking into my 
journal of this date. I have written “I am at this moment 
striving and struggling to know the right way to bear 
myself at all tipies towards our Daisy. SJie has great 
firmness, and when aroused it is not a very easy thing to 
combat or overcome. It is to me a most cruel thing, the 
idea of ‘conquering children,’ ‘breaking their will,’ as 
some say, making them feel they are subdued, when it 
must be done by physical coercion. Often, however, 
obedience is necessary to the well-being of the child. If 
kindness and persuasion are not effective, what is to be 
done ? They have always been successful with my Daisy 
until this afternoon. What was I to do ? I departed a 
little from my usual course, trying the effect of fear; it 
seemed necessary then, but I realize now that it was not 
the better way, and heaven helping me, I will never resort 
to such strategy again. Such trials are harder for me 
than for the dear child. She is now sleeping quietly, all 

* since then I have seen a beautiful picture of such, to the child, sad 
little burial, but the thought was original with her. 


i8 


STORY OF DAISY. 


sorrow forgotten, while tears are coursing down my 
cheeks like rain. I can hardly forgive myself that , I 
could ever even think it possible to hold a threat above the 
dear little form in order to frighten her into obedience. 
No, no, precious lamb of my heart ! She shall ever be 
folded lovingly to my bosom as she has been in the past, 
and even angels will not chide.” 

The next spring when visiting her auntie, she saw 
for the first time some crocuses in blossom; she was greatly 
delighted with their beauty, knelt down and kissed them, 
that being the way her little soul could best express her 
affection and admiration for them. Flowers seemed little 
friends and companions to her; she could hardly bear to 
have them picked, asked me if they hadn’t “feelings,” 
and if it didn’t “hurt them and make them feel bad to be 
taken away from their mammas, the same as it did little 
children to be taken away from theirs, ’ ’ and a tear came 
into her eye as she asked the que.stion. 


STORY OF D VISY. 


9 


CHAPTER III. 


FOUR TO SEVEN. 

In the summer of ’6i we moved to Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Although not yet four years old, it was quite a trial to 
her little heart to think she must leave her playmates and 
the sunny joys .she had shared with them on the shady 
walk and grounds about our door. Many were the 
promises of visits, and they even talked about letters, 
hearing the elder ones do so. She and Mattie did ex- 
change one or two, I believe, the mammas kindly assisting 
them in the writing. We had been in Brooklyn but a few 
weeks when she was taken very ill with scarlatina. This 
was her first real sickness, but she recovered in a few days 
and seemed stronger and better than ever before. One 
beautiful morning shortly after her recovery, her papa got 
a carriage and gave us a drive, a delightful change from 
the sick room to the lively streets and shady parks, and 
the many attractions that the city presented to our obser- 
vation in this our first opportunity to become acquainted 
with it. We asked the little girl if she didn’t think she 
would like living in Brooklyn better than in L. She 
replied, “It is much larger and nicer, but I think L. is 
pleasanter to live in.’’ 

I found afterwards in walking about the streets with 
her, ample opportunity to justify my father’s opinion 
concerning her fine powers of observation. Her quick 
eye readily caught pretty views and attractive sights, and 
would sooner recognize streets and more easily find her 
way home than would I. We boarded when we first 
w^ent to Brooklyn, in a private family near Fort Green 


I 


20 STORY OF DAISY. 

Park, a very pleasant shady resort, in which our Daisy 
found much of the freedom and sportive joy which was 
hers in her home at L. Having the sole care of her at 
that time, I often felt very much hurried to get her and 
myself ready in time for breakfast. One morning there 
was greater need for haste than usual. When I came to 
the curling of her hair, there was a repellant feeling on 
her part; I tried to smooth her hair and subdue her 
feelings at the same time, but she resisted, ‘ ‘did not want 
her hair curled.” The more anxious I became the more 
resistant she felt, and at last very abruptly tore herself 
away from me. After an instant she looked at me with 
repentance in her eye and said, “mamma, please wait a 
little till the naughty goes away.” I felt truly self- 
reproved as I realized most fully how great must be the 
trial for a child to be subjected to such a torturing pro- 
cess every morning before breakfast. It was too much to 
expect, the wonder ought to be that she submitted as 
long and patiently as she did. 

A few days after I was taken quite ill and her papa 
gave much time to her. One afternoon they went out 
merely for a pleasant walk, but, an unexpected oppor- 
tunity presenting itself, they went into a shop and came 
out and home with her curls off ! ! Oh, what a change ! 
When she came into the room (being very weak) I burst 
into tears. She came running up to me, put her little 
arms around my neck and said, “don’t mamma, don’t feel 
bad ! Papa thought it was better, you are so sick and it 
is so much work for you. I am sorry for you, mamma, if 
you wanted them, but I don’t want them curled any 
more. ’ ’ I soon became reconciled to the changed looks of 
the dear child, knowing it was so much better for her. 
How unwise in parents — mothers, perhaps I ought to say 
— to sacrifice the comfort and health even, of children to 
to gratify their own vanity. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


21 


Pleasant young playmates began to develop quite 
numerously around the “little stranger,” besides there 
being a lovely girl of ten in the house where we boarded, 
Clara, the daughter of our hostess, who became very fond 
of our darling. Many an hour was whiled away with 
dollies, picture-books, and stories, in a pleasant, sunny 
play-room not far from ours, with this dear bright Clara, 
who was even then, with her pale, sweet face, very near 
the angel land. 

Miss Bateman was acting “The Jewess” over in New 
York this autumn, and we- took our Daisy to see her one 
afternoon. She was in love immediately with Miss Bate- 
man, thought her so beautiful, as indeed she was, wanted 
to know why she couldn’t have her for a sister, — the one 
question always asked if she saw a lovely little girl or a 
beautiful young lady. It was a most pleasing study for 
us to watch the wonderment and delight pictured in the 
face of our child as she sat there with her feet braced 
against the back of the seat in front, taking in the strange, 
beautiful sights and sounds before and all around her. It 
Was all so new, the stage scenery, the brilliant costumes 
of the actors, the sometimes weird shadowy appearance of 
all things; and then there were some very touching 
scenes which came home most pitifully to her little heart. 
One, an old man in a black robe reaching to the feet, with 
long white beard and hair hanging over his shoulders, 
standing with uplifted hands in the moonlight in a wild 
forsaken place, appealing to heaven for protection from 
some approaching calamity. His touching attitude and 
the pathetic tones of his tremulous voice brought the quick 
tears of sympathy into her pitying eyes. And so her 
heart was played upon with a sad or joyous touch as differ- 
ent phases of life were presented to us. I now very much 
question the wisdom of subjecting a highly nervous child 
not yet four to the novel scenes, the extreme changes of 


22 


STORY OF DAISY. 


feeling, and the generally exciting influences of such an 
occasion. But she was our all and it was our habit, as 
our desire, to always have her with us. 

We often visited Central Park and there she was hap- 
piest of any place connected with our new home. .The broad 
sweep of the smoothly shaven, velvety lawns, and wind- 
ing walks, with here and there rustic arbors, the beauti- 
ful flowers, plants and shrubs, and trees growing in rich 
profusion in every direction, with the delightful drive- 
ways leading off in endless extent, was a new and won- 
derful world to her. Then the animals, the little lakes 
and graceful swans, but not least in importance to her a 
little boat named Daisy in which she had a ride on the clear 
water around among the beautiful swans. She thought she 
“would always like to live in a lovely country like that.” 
To Greenwood also we made occasional visits, a place 
attractive for its many costl}?", rare and unique memorial 
designs in stone, its beautiful flowers, sacred shade, and 
lovely surroundings. But nothing so touched the heart 
of our darling as the little graves in the Potter’s Field 
where the poor, not able to memorize their dead with 
costly marble or even the simplest slab, had not only 
decked their little graves with flowers, but often the toys 
or playthings, a little pair of shoes or boots, a hat or 
dolly ■ encased in glass, or anything most nearly or 
sweetly suggestive of the precious loved one, was placed 
upon or close beside the sacred spot where slept the dear 
little foi'm. The sight of all these things there made her 
more fully realize the sadness of havdng “to put little 
children away in the ground.” 

Thus daily almost after the hours of study were over 
for her papa, we sought out some of the attractive places 
with which the two cities and surroundings abound for 
recreation and benefit of body and mind. Coney Island 
we frequently visited for the purpose of bathing. * 

* It was merely a bathing place then. 


story of daisy. 


23 


Daisy greatly enjoyed being in the water. Once her 
papa took her on his shoulders and swam out quite a dis- 
tance from the shore. She thought that a great feat and 
told her little friends with some pride that she had had 
“ a swim in the Atlantic Ocean.” 

Quite late in the fall of this year we took a furnished 
house, alwa^^s preferring a home of our own to boarding. 
Our Daisy’s sympathies were much wrought upon by the 
many poor shivering little children who came to the door 
with their baskets for cold victuals ; she could not bear 
that any should be turned away without something, and 
having a table of our own, and not wishing to restrain her 
generous impulses, I at first allowed her to give to all who 
called ; but I soon learned that this class were not unmind- 
ful of each other’s interests, and all of certain localities 
would soon come- to understand where open doors were to 
be found and never forgot to call. * 

So after we had had a dozen or more calls one morn- 
ing, I said to our darling, “we shall have to exercise a 
little more wisdom and prudence in our charity, I think, 
or we may not always be able to take care of ourselves. ’ ’ 

There were, of course, many things, the most common 
perhaps, that would particularly strike the unaccustomed 
eye and ear of the child in a strange city ; among them 
the street cries, some of which were quite puzzling and 
amusing to our Daisy. One day, for instance, she came 
rushing in to me, exclaiming, ‘ ‘ Mamma, a man on the 
street is calling, ‘Glass puddin,’ glass puddin.’ Why 
does he carry around on his back pudding to sell?” and 
was much surprised to learn that he only had glass to put 
in the windows and doors, if needed. 

A glimpse from journal, February, 1861 : “Alone in 
the study this evening. Have just left my darling with a 
good-night kiss. She calls after me, ‘Mamma, I love 
you,’ a sweet heart-pleasing phrase which she repeats 

* (This was long- before organized charities were established, or many 
other helpful institutions for the benefit of the poor.) 


24 


STORY OF DAISY. 


every hour in the day, and when awake in the night 
always gives me the same dear assurance. She often 
comes from her play up two long flights of stairs, and as 
soon as she is by my side, she will say, ‘ Mamma, I want 
to kivSs you; mamma, I love you.’ Taking her in my 
arms I say, ‘Did you come all the way up here, my 
darling, to kiss mamma and tell her yo^u love her.’ 
‘Yes, mamma, ’cause I do,’ she would reply. Dear 
blessed child, how rich and precious to my heart now all 
your sweet loving words and ways.” 

In journal of next day I write: ‘‘Called with my 
Daisy this afternoon to see the little girl with whose 
mother we boarded when we first came to Brooklyn. 
Poor Clara seems to be rapidly declining ; I fear she will 
never be any better. She is a lovely child with a sweet 
angelic face, — would grace the upper sphere translated as 
she is. ” A few weeks later she left us for the unknown 
land. We stood beside the bed as the gentle spirit was 
passing out upon the untried sea, and it seemed almost to 
have departed, so still and white she lay, when there came 
floating up through the open window most beautiful 
strains of music. It was anniversary day for the Sunday 
schools of B., and as the procession of hundreds of 
children was passing, one of the lovely familiar hymns so 
much sung in the schools was played by an accompanying 
band. The almost closed eyes reopened for an instant 
with a sweet wondering expression as the remembered, 
well-beloved tones touched the chords of the vibrating 
soul and seemed to question whether it was a farewell 
from earth or a welcome from the heavenly shore. A 
moment after the bright spirit was gone, wafted away on 
the sweet sound so dear to childhood. 

Our little Daisy’s heart was much saddened at the loss 
of Clara. She wanted me to write something about her, 
and in obedience to her request I penned some simple 
lines in memory of her first Brooklyn friend. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


25 


CHAPTER IV. 


The following summer found us at the old homestead 
on a visit. How cordial was our welcome, especially so 
was that of our Daisy by her grandpa. He had greatly 
missed her frequent visits and missed us all, while we had 
had many homesick yearnings among strangers for the 
sunny cheer and heart joys of the dear old place. Some 
letters written to the papa who returned to Brooklyn 
before we did, will help me to more details of this time 
than could my memory. I will therefore quote from 
several. The first dated Sept., 1862. 

“It is now fifteen minutes to eight; have just kis.sed 
our Daisy good-night, and left her with a blessing on her 
sweet lips for her ‘dear papa.’ She knew I was to write 
you and said, ‘mamma, write a good letter to papa; write 
it all over with kisses. ’ ’ ’ 

I wrote nearly every day, but quote of course, only 
what I said in reference to our darling. In my next I 
say, “Daisy had a -nice rest this afternoon, slept nearly 
three hours. When she awoke, she rose up and suddenly 
cried out, ‘where’s- my Gyp pony?’ Had been dreaming 
of the one we have promised and talked to her so much 
about, I presume. When we were out riding yesterday, 
she was much delighted at seeing a ‘little colty,’ as she 
called it, prancing and playing around its mother in the 
field. But it was a great mystery to her ‘how the mother 
could love the colt5^’ ‘Why,’ said I, ‘how does your 
mamma love you?’ ‘So,’ said she, putting her arms 
around my neck and kissing me. ‘Oh, that is what you 
mean,’ said I. ‘Yes, and now how can the mother love 
the colty?’ I, of course, told her that it had other ways 


26 


SSORY OF DAISY. 


of showing its love, and called her attention to one just 
manifested by the mother in fondling the little one’s ear. 

She is very anxious I should tell you she is learning 
to wipe dishes, standing on a little chair beside ’Liza, 
‘and please tell papa tonight ’Liza is going to let me help 
skin some milk.’ She always will have it ‘skin.’ You 
know she is indulged in almost every wish, when here, and 
many things are new and very pleasing to her. She asked a 
few nights since ‘why we could not always live at grand- 
pa’s?’ That which gives her greatest trouble and disap- 
pointment is to have it rain so she can’t be out with grandpa 
and ‘uncle Rippy . ’ It was raining when we aw^oke this 
morning. She said she ‘wished God would screw up the 
clouds and hurry up to make the sun shine and dry off the 
grass so she would not have to stay in the house.” 

The letter of the following day says: ‘‘I am now 
seated at the reading table by the sitting room window. 
Half an hour ago our precious Daisy sat here on the table 
with her feet in her mamma’s lap, begging for stories, as 
is her habit when the day is going out. She wanted me 
first to tell her about her Gyp pony and the little girl who 
is to ride it, as papa does. So I dressed up the pony and 
the Daisy as nearly after your fashion .as possible, and 
sent them skipping away through the valley and over the 
hills at a real Mazeppa speed. She seemed to feel and 
see them going, and in her intense interest leaned way 
forward to catch a glimpse of them in the distance. 
After the pony seemed to pass out of sight, she wanted 
me to tell her about her going in the cars to Brooklyn to 
see papa. Well, I went through the minutiae of getting 
ready, packing the trunk, etc. She could see each little 
dress and skirt as I folded and laid them in, with Dolly and 
all ‘berthings;’ then the ride to the station, starting off 
in the cars, the beautiful country through which we would 
pass; to all of which she listened very complacently till 


STORY OF DAISY. 


27 


we reached New York and the cars stopped ! Then she 
began to work her hands and feet and open her eyes 
wider and wider, and when she saw papa coming into the 
car and grasping mamma by the hand and catching up 
his little daughter, folding her to his bosom with kisses, 
saying, ‘my blessed little daughter has come to see her 
papa,’ she was at the height of expectancy and happiness, 
and jumping from the table into my lap, her little arms 
closely clasped my neck, and to make real the ideal she 
gave me a most overwhelming ‘loving,’ all for dear papa’s 
sake. Holding her thus in my arms, I directed her 
attention out of the window where we beheld just such 
another scene as the one you enjoyed with us the first 
evening after we reached this dear place; the declin- 
ing sun sending back its level. beams so soft and golden 
upon the bright green sward, and setting the grand old 
trees all aglow as it glanced up through their light shim- 
mering leaves. I asked her if it was not a beautiful 
sight. She replied, ‘oh, it is splendid, mamma, and the 
black and white look so nice,’ meaning, you will of 
course know, the sunshine and shadow. ’ ’ I add but one 
more brief quotation from the letters of this time. 

“I sit here in the front door of the old parlor, a soft 
south wind comes stealing gently in around me, bringing 
with it new life and vigor to my wasted energies ; and as 
I write our little Daisy is sauntering alone in the front 
yard, her grandpa having gone to town this morning. 
She is singing and talking to herself, happy as a queen, 
and a very queen she is in this court, you know.” 

We finally remained and enjoyed the comforts and 
luxuries of the autumn, and even had a glimpse of the soft 
dreamy Indian summer before we were obliged to leave 
for the city. It was with reluctance we left the ease and 
quiet we found there, but we could hardly expect to 
realize our Daisy’s wish, “always to live at grandpa’s.” 


28 


STORY OF DAISY. 


CHAPTER V. 


Greatly to the delight of our little girl, in about three 
years from the time we left the village of L. , we returned 
here again for a home. In the meantime though, we 
visited Philadelphia, where she made some very warm 
friends. We were there during the holidays one year and 
entered into some of the joys and festivities attending 
them. Christmas is there especially the great occasion of 
the year, or rather Christmas eve. The week previous, 
the city was filled with evergreens ; Christmas trees and 
Christmas gifts were everywhere. Never saw I such 
light and joy as beamed from all faces, as crowds of 
people moved briskly, hurriedly about the streets, intent 
on their errands of love and good-will. We took our 
darling early Christmas eve and rode about some of the 
principal streets where we saw many rich, elegant resi- 
dences with the parlor shutters thrown open that the 
passers-by might see the brilliantly lighted rooms and the 
large beautiful trees filled with love- freighted gifts for 
family and friends. It seemed a fairy land to the dear 
little eyes unaccustomed to such splendor and display, — 
“beautiful enough for Heaven,” vShe said. Christmas 
morning we visited some of the beautifully decorated 
churches, heard some fine music, and in the afternoon 
went to see Cinderella in pantomime, given' in a theatre 
by some Sunday school children. It was finely presented, 
the splendor and beautiful dressing making a most 
fascinating picture for young eyes. 

The scene of poor Cinderella at work in the corner, 
however, wrought upon our Daisy’s sympathy and took 
away some of the pleasure at first, but it was soon lost in 


STORY OF DAISY. 


29 


overwhelming admiration as through the miraculous 
transformation of her friend, the witch, she was pre- 
sented in matchless beauty before us. And a wondrous 
marvel it was to her to see the pumpkin and mice by a 
“magic wand” changed into ponies and a carriage mov- 
ing around on the stage ! What contempt she felt for the 
vain, unkind sisters, and how she triumphed with the modest 
Cinderella as the little slipper was fitted to her tiny foot, 
and she moved off the happy bride of the gay young prince. 

Although we went to Philadelphia strangers, her papa 
having been invited to supply one of the pulpits a few 
Sundays, our darling was very handsomely remembered 
with Christmas gifts from her new-made friends. 

We visited many places of interest while there, some 
of which she was old enough to appreciate with us, and 
some she was not. The Academy of Sciences was full of 
beautiful attractions and great curiosities for her. The 
variety and rare beauty of preserved birds, their plum- 
age still so brilliant, was a delightful feast to her wonder- 
ing eyes, and she was interested in the beautiful shells, 
corals and insects; but the amazing reptiles, immense 
skeletons were sights most strange and quite incomprehen- 
'sible to her as ever having been alive. The mint, old Inde- 
pendence Hall and Girard College were places of no 
significance to her, but Fairmont was a ‘ ‘ delightful park, ’ ’ 
and the prison a “cruel place, so many people having to 
be shut up all alone.” At the Solder’s Hospital her 
quick sympathies were most deeply touched, as she went 
in among the sick and wounded men. We told her, of 
course, that these poor sufferers had just been brought 
home from the battle fields. We could all far better un- 
derstand while there amid the sick, the maimed, and the 
dying, over how many broken hearts and desolate 
hearthstones victory must come, as we knew it must at 
last to the Nation. 


30 


STORY OF DAISY. 


It was soon after leaving Philadelphia that we found 
ourselves happily settled again in the beautiful town of 
ly. , Daisy’s first love as a home. During our absence, 
dear, bright little Mattie, her most constant playmate 
when there before, had suddenly died of scarlet fever. 
Very, very sad the loss, and many other changes were 
visible, — some trying and some very pleasant. Her 
cousin Lizzie had grown to be quite a girl, as well as her- 
self, and most happy were the two to be re-united. Fre- 
quent visits were interchanged and joy filled up the hours 
when the two were together ; as neither had a sister, each 
supplied the want to the other. 

In my journal, I find the following written soon after 
our return to L : 

“Have just left my Daisy for her night’s rest. She 
repeated her little prayer with unusual emphasis and 
reverence of tone and manner this evening. She is a very 
affectionate, spiritually minded child. Heaven guard and 
preserve her to us. How ardent and sweet her good 
night kiss. As I came down the stairs she called to me, 
‘mamma, the angels are already coming! I see them 
flying down from heaven.’ Nearly every night after I 
leave her, I hear her talking to God and the angels, as 
she expresses it. Heaven seems another part of her 
home, God another Father like her owm dear papa, and 
‘the angels are brothers and sisters.’ She asked me some 
time ago if she ‘should call God papa when she got to 
heaven, and if she could put her arms around His neck 
and hug and kiss Him.’ What to the adult with his 
larger vision and questioning mind is an incomprehensible 
mystery, to the undoubting child is a reality; the Father 
must be a real, personal Father. It is impossible for it to 
take hold of Him in a spiritual sense. Another instance, 
a few evenings ago, of her impression in that respect. 
When I was preparing her for bed, putting on her night- 


STORY OF DAISY. 


31 


dress, she said, ‘oh, mamma, I am so glad you always put on 
me such a pretty clean night}^ when I go to bed, because 
I ought to be all dressed up in white then, for when I go to 
sleep I visit God. ’ ’ I felt as though her pure sweet spirit 
did indeed visit God, and that every morning and every 
hour of the day she brought a fresh blessing unto us.” 

The sense of parental responsibility is enlarged and 
intensified in my mind with the accumulation of years. 
What wisdom is needed to rightly direct the youthful 
mind? It asks questions the highest human knowledge 
may not answer, and often arrives at solutions through 
instinct or intuition, which enlightened reason might not 
more truly solve. It seems the one great care to be exer- 
cised in educating our children is, that no overwhelming 
early bias in any direction shall hinder true, broad 
development in later time, in all the ways of right and of 
newly discovered truths. I continue in journal: “Our 
darling is now past six and quite tall of her age, but not 
stout. She reads a little but does not like the trouble of 
reading for herself, or rather, what she is able to read 
does not satisfy her mind, her intelligence being in 
advance of her learning. She will sit for hours listening 
to me, says she is interested in all I read, is not satisfied 
to be in a room where I am reading unless I will read 
aloud. She seems to grasp ideas readily, but does not 
try to memorize words.” 

There was one thing, one seeming neglect of the 
dear child about this time, for which I can never forgive 
myself whenever it recurs to my mind. It was this: I 
left her with her aunt Tottie, whom she loved next to her 
papa and mamma and delighted to visit, to attend with her 
papa two or three annual associations; was absent about ten 
days, the longest time by far that we had ever been sepa- 
rated . I do not remember having said anything to her about 
writing, but while away thought of doing so as a surprise; 


32 


STORY OF DAISY. 


but no convenient opportunity offering itself, I did not. 
On my return I learned that she thought I would surely 
do so; every day when her auntie returned from the post- 
office she would eagerly meet her, saying, “auntie, did 
you get me my mamma’s letter?” and such a disappointed 
look would come over her little face, her auntie said, 
when she answered, “not today,” implying in her manner 
as much as possible that it might come tomorrow. She 
would then go off alone, she told me on my return, “and 
ask God to have her mamma send her a letter. ’ ’ 

The same summer her papa’s father came to live 
with us, to find rest and comfort from his lonely widowed 
life. He was in poor health when he came, and the fol- 
lowing May the worn spirit was released from its earthly 
sufferings. She had learned to love him very much the 
few short months he was with tts, and was very sad when 
her papa started with the dear remains for their last rest- 
ing place in his former city home. Never before since 
her remembrance had death come so near to us, and she 
was greatly exercised concerning it.' Among the many 
questions she asked I remember the following: “Mamma, 
why should any one feel so bad when their friends go to 
heaven if it is such a beautiful place?” “And why do 
they put on black? I should think they would put on 
blue like the sky.” Sad it seems in some respects to get 
so far away from childhood; from its bright visions, its 
sweet, hopeful, unquestioning trust. Two weeks from 
the time the first grandpa passed away, the one at the old 
homestead also found the long desired rest from severe 
pain and weariness in the sleep of death. She was deeply 
grieved at the loss, to think she would have no more dear 
grandpa there where she had spent so many happy days 
with him was a great trial to her little heart. She “won- 
dered if he would find as . pleasant a home in Heaven. ’ ’ 


STORY OF DAISY. 


33 


CHAPTER VI. 


A little later in the spring we found for our darling 
what had been a great desire of her heart, — a little pet 
dog. He was part poodle, mostly white, and “a perfect 
beauty,” to use her expression. She named him Fido, 
and soon lovecf him with all the ardor of her affectionate 
nature. He had the most devoted attention and motherly 
care from her. Every day with the help of Rosa, the girl, 
she gave him a bath and with the “brush and comb kept for 
his special use’ ’ she gave his slightly curled robe a thorough 
dressing; then with a blue ribbon tied around his neck, 
he was ready for the street or a romping play with her. 

Her Aunt Lottie brought her a kitten a few weeks 
later, a very pleasant addition to her little family she 
thought. They were so young, the dog and kitten, she 
hoped she could teach them to love each other, and she 
succeeded most admirably. It was really quite surprising 
and amusing to see the fondness they came to manifest 
for each other, especially at bed-time when the cold 
weather came on. They shared the same little box, and 
if, as she sometimes did, she put Fido in his bed first, he 
would cry until the kitten was brought to him, and when 
he saw her coming he would rise on his hind feet, and as 
soon as she was near enough, he would clasp his arms 
around her and draw her down beside him with the great- 
est joy he could express ; and there they would be closely 
coddled all night. She often dressed them up in her 
dolly’ s clothes and called them her children. Fido seemed 
to learn to expect it and to enjoy it even, and she really 
sometimes felt the responsibility and put on the dignity 


34 


STORY OF DAISY. 


of motherhood with them. It was a new and very happy 
diversion for her. 

Some quotations from my journal of this time will serve 
me better than memory. November 13, ’64, I write: — 
‘ ‘Daisy’ s birthday again ! Nearer and nearer together the 
memorable days seem to come. Seven sweet blessed years 
already passed. May many more as happy to father, mother 
and child come and go, changing only to give us more and 
more of joy, and opening up to us a truer, higher life. 
The dear child is all we could wish her, so far as 
developed. She seems to us at times quiffe remarkable in 
somethings, — “parental paj'tiality” no doubt; and still 
I think no one who sees her much but would accord her 
great intuition or quickness of apprehension.’’ 

We had our usual family gathering and considered the 
day a kind of “jubilee’’ also, because of victory on the 
field of battle and in the political world, Lincoln being re- 
elected to the presidency. The following winter we were 
much alone, Daisy and I, her papa haying many calls 
which necessitated his absence from home. One of the 
many things I read to her during the time was Aurora 
Leigh, Mrs. Browning’ s best poem. She was greatly in- 
terested in it, seemed to have as true an appreciation of 
some parts as would many of more years. One day she 
burst out with the greatest indignation in her little face, 
saying, — “Mamma, I hate that Lady Waldemar.’’ One 
acquainted with the character will see how justly she esti- 
mated the selfish, intriguing, cold-hearted woman. 

Early in the spring we purchased a home a short dis- 
tance from where we were living. It was a lovely place, 
containing five acres of land. In front was a lawn with 
gravelled walks which led around the dwelling, the flower 
beds and back to the grape arbor and garden. Disposed 
with fine taste over the lawn was a great variety of choice, 
beautiful trees and shrubs, and near the house the rarest. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


35 


most lovely roses, syringas, and spireas, with the delicate 
Narcissus, the most gorgeous tulips, and all the rare early 
flowers that would survive the severe climate. Daisy was 
d.elighted that we were to have a home again of our own in 
ly. , and often walked out with her papa to see it before 
the real spring weather came ; she could hardly wait for 
the first of April, the time we were to move. But it came 
at last, and the busiest, happiest little girl was she in the 
moving. She had a great deal to look after, nearly as 
much or more than her mamma; at least,- hers was of 
more consequence to her. There was the dolly family, — 
the older and younger ones with all their wardrobes, 
Fido, kitty and canary and all that belonged to them, be- 
sides her own and dolly’s house-keeping arrangements. 
All that could be packed was duly put in place and the 
‘ ‘ live part ’ ’ privately made acquainted with all that was 
going on, what was expected of them in submissive be- 
havior, and what they might hope to enjoy in their new 
home. When everything was finally removed, she was 
very ambitious to get her household in order by the time 
here mamma’s was. We found a small room next to the 
chamber we occupied as a sleeping room just large enough 
for a play room. It had a window opening on the lawn 
tow^ard the east which was exceedingly pleasant. Just a 
little way from it stood a large old apple tree with its 
rough browm arms reaching up so as to protect it from 
too much glare of the sun, and giving it a cool, airy look. 
She found that window in after time her favorite place of 
resort. In the room was her own little rocking chair and 
stand and dolly’s furniture, a little bedstead and cradle 
and carriage and the little dishes, indeed all the little 
things that little girls have to “play keep house with.’’ 
There she was content to stay for hours alone, singing 
and talking to herself and dolly and Fido, and there she 
took her little visitors when they wanted a time by them- 


36 


STORY OF DAISY. 


selves. She would also go there when she felt sad or 
grieved “to get over it;” and when she felt she was 
naughty “she went there,” she said, “and asked God to 
help her drive the naughty away.” 

We had been in our new home but a short time when 
one morning we heard the church bells tolling. We at 
first supposed the sad tones filling all the air announced 
the death of W. H. Seward who had for some days been 
lying dangerously ill , but very soon afterwards we were 
shocked and horrified beyond expression to learn that 
lyincoln, our president, had been shot by an assassin! 
Faces unused to blanching paled then, and hearts the 
bravest almost ceased to beat, as news of the terrible 
tragic deed fell upon the ear. Most children of our 
darling’s age knew of the sad struggle through which 
our country had been passing, and little hearts were made 
to tremble and grieve as well as those which throbbed in 
larger bosoms, as news of the frightful deed swept over 
the land. At least they felt, as my Daisy said, “How 
awful it was to have the good Lincoln killed ! ’ ’ That 
night our darling’s prayer had but one thought, it was 
filled with the pervading feeling. (I wrote it down im- 
mediately, knowing her papa would like to see it.) She 
said : ‘ ‘The great and good Lincoln has gone from us. 

Oh, God, why did you let him be taken away? ' Oh, God, 
was it because you wanted him close to your heart? I 
feel very bad that I never saw him, he was so superior to 
all other men. Oh, God I pray you for the poor black 
man who must feel so bad because Father Abraham 
is taken from him. God, I pray you pity the poor man 
who shot Lincoln, make him sorry and better ; he wasn’t so 
much to blame, maybe, because he was so educated. God, 
did you want Lincoln in Heaven because he had such a good 
and gracious spirit? I know he was the best example, 


STORY OF DAISY. 37 

but Oh, God, how bad my poor heart feels because the 
good lyincoln is gone. What can we do?” 

I see now the sincere, loving hearted little girl as she 
lay in bed that night trying to express the sad feeling that 
overwhelmed her little soul. But how impossible when 
the adult mind and heart were overcome by the terrible 
calamity. 


38 


STORY OF DAISY. 


CHAPTER Vll. 


The first summer in our new home was a very de- 
lightful one; so many flowers, so much freshness and 
beauty everywhere. I remember looking out of my 
chamber window one bright sunny morning when the sky 
was all a deep blue and the balmy fragrant air was filled 
with the melody of singing* birds, and saw what was to 
me, one of the sweetest pictures my eye ever rested upon. 
There was my Daisy sauntering along over the green 
sward, swinging her hat in her hands, and her little 
Fido tripping along beside her, /looking up into her dear 
face every now and then, and she singing, “Oh, I am 
so happy. Oh, I am so happy!” I watched her until 
she came around to the old brooding apple tree which 
shaded the window of her playroom, when she sat down 
at its foot and taking her pet into her lap said, “Oh, Fido, 
we are so happy this beautiful morning, aren’t we?” 
The wagging of his tail and a glad responsive look into 
her face as she fondly caressed him, demonstrated that 
the feeling was a very mutual one. Innocence and joy 
embosomed in light and loveliness, I thought, a part of the 
life of which poets dream. Fooking up she caught sight of 
me through the leaves and exclaimed, “Oh, mamma, I feel 
as though we are paradised in this beautiful home.” 

An only child’s is a dreamy sort of life; imagination 
kindly helps to fill up the hours. One day as she was 
lying on the couch, not feeling very well, she looked up 
with rather a funny expression and said, “mamma, all 
the days of the week seem to me to grow larger, only 


STORY OF DAISY. 


39 


Sunday is the tallest, and Monday is a little bit of a thing 
running along by the side of Sunday. I should like to 
make them all out and dress them up sometime.” 

Our Thanksgiving, this year, our darling’s birthday, 
was sunny and delightful, tender and sweet as was the 
love of her young heart. There were more than usual with 
us to help enjoy it, and a wildly joyous time the children 
had. November is too often cold and stormy, and on such a 
day when quite small she asked me ‘ ‘why she couldn’t have 
her birthday in June, it would be so much pleasanter.” 

My journal of the 14th says: “Although yesterday 
was so fine, today is more delightful even; such a golden 
calm and deep repose. A blissful reverie seems holding 
the earth, and a brooding presence hovering over it in 
tender benignity, breathing a paternal blessing. The 
balmy south wind whispers softly and sadly among 
the, fallen leaves, its gladsome playmates during the long 
summer, telling them they shall not utterly perish, but 
give life and nourishment to new and beautiful creations 
another spring. I sit with full heart by my open window, 
my Daisy by my side looking out into the glory around, 
and in a more quiet mood today, her heart is drinking in 
the sweetness and bliss of the time, while I almost uncon- 
sciously reach forth to embrace the loveliness and 
beauty which enfold us. How thankful for such a day, 
for the sense it brings of an all-bountiful and ever-bless- ' 
ing Providence.” 

The severe cold and storms of winter were not un- 
welcome, however, as we early decided our little girl 
should suffer no deprivation in the way of childish out 
door sports on account of sex. Coasting and skating 
with her little companions she entered into with zest. 
Her papa also often had fine frolic with her in the snow; 
the wilder the sport the greater her enjoyment. Not only 
out of door and in the snow, but in the house when he 


40 


STORY OF DAISY. 


would give himself up to it; her papa had a very happy 
faculty of making himself a play-fellow and entertaining 
her. “Hide and seek” was her favorite game. He 
would run all over the house to find a good place to hide 
and greatly amuse her by his funny attempts to get out 
of sight in some most impossible manner. She would 
laughingly cry out to him, “Oh, papa, you are so big, some 
of you will always be seen.” 

Many of Dickens’ works I read to her this winter. 
David Coperfield and Our Mutual Friend; the Christmas 
Carols we always read at Christmas time. Thoreau also 
was much enjoyed, especially Walden. She was particu- 
larly delighted wdth his beautiful and minute descriptions 
of nature, for she w^as a lover and close observ^er for a little 
girl of what she saw in the outer world. In spring she 
was always eager for the dawning of green on the brown 
earth and fondly w^atched the slowly swelling buds, almost 
impatient for her first lovely bouquet formed of the many 
hued, tender leaflets of the various trees and shrubs. 
She found something daily to admire in the rich changing 
foliage, and was always delighted beyond expression 
with the brilliant, beautiful tints of autumn. The wdld 
grasses also, what pleasure it gave her to gather them in 
her strolls and bring them in for me to join with her in 
admiration of them. And how happy she was to greet a 
stray bunch in winter, exquisitely adorned wdth frost 
work or light feathery snow. One who has never greeted 
such a sight has missed one of the loveliest objects in 
nature, she thought. So with the fine tracery and 
beautiful designs with which the frost king ornamented 
our windows of a winter morning. Flowers, ferns, trees, 
mountains, ships at sea, and almost every conceivable 
thing was at sometime manifest to her, as she would sit 
and study the brilliant scene. The most worshipful artist 
with his rarest colors could not equal in her eyes the 


STORY OF DAISY. 


41 


beautiful pictures so silently, wonderfully made by the 
delicate finger of her friend, Jack Frost. 

We had little to distrub the quiet of our home life dur- 
ing the severe season of this year; cheerfulness, content- 
ment and serene, happiness were abiding guests in the 
household, with a sweet privacy and freedom from social 
demands almost unknown before. 

In March I find the following in my journal: — “A 
mild, beautiful day, almost a summer air. As I sit here 
by the window my ears are greeted with the buzzing of 
three or four awakened flies as their limbering wings 
slowly sport their bodies up and down the panes of glass. 
Yesterday two or three robins came about our door and 
perched themselves on the tops of the trees and called and 
sung most joyously, seeming to be as glad to get back to 
their old haunts as we were to have them come. My 
heart leaped with joy as the first tone reached my ear. I 
started to the door to get a glimpse of the redbreast from 
whence it came. Mj' Daisy was alread}^ there, dancing 
and clapping her hands in an ecstacy of delight and call- 
ing, ‘Come, mamma, come, my dear robins are here! 
Oh, mamma, what dear little birds they are! Have they 
come to stay now?’ I could bnt say, ‘I fear not darling! 
they will doubtless have cold winds and perhaps snow to en- 
counter ere many days ; the first spring month seldom gives 
us all warm weather. ’ ’ ’ The next day I write again : 
“Still warmer than yesterday and so calm the soft gen- 
ial sun invests the barren trees, even, with beauty. The 
willows across the way are golden tipped, as if new life 
stirring at the heart was ready to burst into leaf. And 
as I look down at the brown shreds which cover the 
earth, I feel there are stirrings underneath them among 
the germs which are to quicken into freshness and beauty 
in the genial days to come. How my Daisy enjoys these 
soft sweet days. She had- a greeting from her robins 


42 


STORY OF DAISY. 


again today, and her heart leaps in ecstatic anticipation of 
the bright sweet sounds soon coming to remain with us. ’ ’ 
lyove of freedom and out-door life had rather fostered 
an aversion to the restraints of a school-room with our 
Daisy, and confinement, we found, had a very disturbing, 
deleterious effect upon her highly nervous organization. 
So we were not inclined to force her in the least in that 
direction. She commenced with the spring term, however, 
attending school in the primary department of the 
academy. She started about the same time last year, but 
only went one week. This year she continued two weeks, 
but nearly every day of that time the teacher would send 
her out of the school-room, she gave evidence of being so 
overcome, either with the restraint, the close air, or the 
exciting infiuence everything seemed to have upon her. 
We then made arrangements with Miss R., a teacher of a 
little private school, just across the way from our house, 
for her to attend that when we thought best to send her ; 
she was to have the privilege of going in and out when- 
ever she felt like it, or rather when the demands of health 
made it necessary. We cared more for that than all things 
else, and yet we wished her to know something of school 
life and to have the companionship of little girls, and 
there were only those about her own age, and those who 
were also her playmates attending there. The same 
understanding was held to in regard to her attendance, 
the two years she was more or less connected with this 
school. She therefore did not make rapid progress in 
text-books, — we did not desire it; we felt that she took in 
knowledge as fast or faster than she ought from every 
source in her nervous, susceptible condition. Her life, 
therefore, with the added interest of the little school w^as 
a very full and happy one. The birds sang as sweetly, 
the flowers bloomed as abundantly, and all the enjoyments 
of our home w^ere as fresh as the year previous. I can no 


STORY OF DAISY. 


43 


better give expression to her feeling in regard to it, than by 
transcribing what I wrote by moonlight one night in the 
early summer when I went up with my Daisy to her bed. 
Before undressing she sat ill my lap a while by the 
window looking out into the still beautiful light in which 
a clear high moon enwrapped the sleeping world, when 
she exclaimed, — “Oh, mamma, how beautiful, how beau- 
tiful! It makes me almost cry to see it so beautiful. 
There is too much good and sweetness here, mamma. Oh, 
the dear little bugled leaves in the sunshine, the wind 
playing with them and taking care of them, just as a mam- 
ma takes care of her little baby ! Oh, mamma, as I look 
out into the bright moonshine, how lovely every thing is to 
me. Way off there I see little specks of white clouds 
roaming about in the sky like little lambs in the field. 
And this dear old tree looks so kind and so good with the 
soft, bright light on it. I wish I could reach down and 
pick a leaf out of the moonlight, and kiss and keep it to 
remember this night of my childhood forever. And right 
down there mamma, see the grass with the dew drops 
sparkling on it. Oh, mamma, how good God is to make 
it so beautiful ! Mamma, I wish you would make some 
poetry about this beautiful night. I will. If I can, when 
I get into bed if you will keep on writing and put it down. ’ ’ 
While undressing she made an attempt to still further ex- 
press the feelings of her little soul — the recognition of the 
beauty all around, and the visions that arose before her. 
She said: — “Oh, the hills and the valleys — the valleys 
sloping down, and the little streams running along in 
them, and the buttercups and daisies, and the tall trees 
all around, and the birds singing in them. Hear the 
song sparrow singing his good night song! And there 
are the mountains high up — so tall in the moonlight. 
We will go up them, and while going up will prick a little 
cloud open and see if it will sprinkle!” A child climax 


44 


STORY OF DAISY. 


most assuredly. After she was in bed she said: — 
‘ ‘ Mamma, may I speak to God before I say my other 
prayer?” Yes, darling; she then said: — “God, I thank 
Thee for this beautiful night, for the angels who come 
down and take care of me. I thank Thee for making my 
bird sing so sweetly to me. God, will you please take 
care of my papa and mamma? God, I thank Thee for 
giving me so much beauty to come to bed in.” 

I never saw a lovlier night; it was so light I could see 
to read common print. I wrote down by moonlight while 
she was saying it, what I have here given. I felt, 
although she could not reach far enough ‘ ‘to pick a leaf 
out of the moonlight to kiss and keep forever, ’ ’ in memory 
of the beautiful night in her childhood, that I had culled 
a sweet fragrant leaf from her precious soul to kiss and 
keep forever. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


45 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The summer our Daisy was nine years old, her papa’s 
niece, her little cousin Mattie and her mamma came to 
spend eight weeks with us. It was a new experience to 
have a little girl baby so long with her. The little pet, 
however, was not well and clung to her mamma so much 
that Daisy had not the pleasure and happiness with her 
she had anticipated. A few days after they had left, her 
papa’s youngest brother came to us in a dying condition 
with consumption. He had been in the army and ex- 
posure and trials had ruined his health. In four short 
weeks from the time he came, the weary spirit through 
much suffering went out to our vision, leaving the wasted 
form in our care. We all went with it to Cincinnati, his 
native city, and laid it beside the graves of the dear 
father and mother. As Daisy realized she was in the 
place where her papa was born, she was greatly interested 
in having him point out the place where he lived and 
played when he was a little boy. He also rode with us 
over the hills where he used to ramble when young, hills 
then rugged and wild, but now called Clifton, delightful 
suburbs to the great city, and filled with the most beaut- 
ful villas and homes in the land. Although there were 
many attractions in and around the city beside the 
pleasure of visiting at uncle Thomas’ , we remained but a 
few days. When we reached home it was still delightful 
weather, we had a beautiful autumn. Our place looked 
very attractive, seemed more lovely than ever in the 
bright sunshine under the clear blue sky, when we com- 
pared it with the great “smoky city’’ we had just left. 


46 


STORY OF DAISY. 


The thing of greatest interest to Daisy on her return was 
a “little colty,” which our old Flora had brought us 
about two weeks before we left. She called it hers. We 
were always willing to call anything hers which she 
wished to appropriate. 

We left her little Fido in the care of Mary Ann, our 
domestic, who was to spend the time we were to be absent 
in the country. She returned about the same time we did, 
but came without Fido ! Had lost him, she told us in 
tears and with hesitation and trembling, anticipating the 
trial such news would be to his little mistress. We, her 
papa and mamma, heard with fearful forebodings such 
news, and concluded to reveal to our darling only in part 
the fact — told her Fido had not come, but that we would 
go for him the next day. Early next morning we started 
for a drive of ten or twelve miles and spent the whole day 
in riding around the country where Mary Ann had been, 
inquiring of everyone if such a little dog had been seen. 
Sometimes I would call him, thinking he would know my 
voice if within hearing, but no happy, gay looking little 
Fido came tripping out in response to my call, and we had to 
come home without him. What sorrow and consternation 
were pictured in our darling’s face when she found he was 
not with us on our return. “He truly must be lost,’’ she 
sobbed out ; we comforted her as best we could with the 
thought that in a few days he would certainly be found. 
Every possible effort was made to find him or learn his fate, 
but all to no purpose, and when weeks passed and her dear 
Fido came not back and could not be heard from, the first 
great sorrow of her life darkened the soul of our little girl. 
How she grieved for him night and day ! And as month 
after month passed on with the settled conviction that she 
would never see him again, she would have times of such 
anguished weeping, it seemed as though her heart must 
break ; her little bosom would heave with convulsive sobs 


STORY OF DAISY. 


47 


and cries almost to bursting, while she looked the very 
picture of despair. I would always take her in my arms 
and try to soothe her, but he had been her pet and only 
house playmate so long and she was so lonely without 
him, it was impossible for her not to grieve. I remember 
she once turned to me with the most deplorable, pitiful 
look behind the great tears rolling down her cheeks and 
said: “mamma, don’t you think if you had a little child 
you loved and it should get lost away from you and 
never come back, that you would feel bad and cry just as 
I do because you could never s^e it any more ? ’ ’ My 
stricken heart could give answer now, my darling, as it 
knew not how to then, and I feel for the great sorrow that 
was yours even more than when you endured it, if possible ! 


48 


STORY OF DAISY. 


CHAPTER IX. 


The birthday of that year passed with the usual com- 
pany. The darling could boast, which was a gratification 
to her, of having helped make and frost the cake. In my 
journal of that day Isay, “How much of the parent’s life 
is made up of the interest in, and love and care for, the 
child. Heaven blesses us inexpressibly when it gives to 
our arms a child. Tong may the visible union continue 
with us and our darling.” Such would always be the 
heart’s prayer ! But we have not the guidance of our 
own destiny nor that of those we most love, and it is well 
if we can learn to submit without too much repining to the 
“must be’s” of a wisdom superior to ourselves. 

The following winter passed without much to vary the 
monotony of life consequent upon the season. Frequent 
severe storms with fierce, chilling blasts, then a cold grey 
or blue sky with a white placid earth to look upon with- 
out, while within was the warm fire, cheerful loving 
hearts, with plenty of good books and much pleasant 
company. Our Daisy daily growing into brighter, lovlier 
girlhood, and into a deeper, fonder love, if possible, in our 
parental hearts. I journalized but very little at this 
time, but I find this, so characteristic: “My Daisy is 
inexpressibly happy to have surprised me with a beautiful 
gift on my birthday; she has often contrived with her 
papa for such a purpose before, but her loving intention 
would always betray itself beforehand. This time, how- 
ever, she succeeded in a genuine surprise and never was 
she made happier by receiving the most precious momento 
herself, than when I was in possession of mine from her. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


49 


Sweet, loving, little heart, how mamma blesses you every 
moment of your precious life.” 

One who was much in our family said there were two 
things in connection with our darling of which she could 
never sufficiently express her admiration and enthusiasm. 
One was to see her abundant hair (it grew very rapidly) 
curled or uncurled in a strong light, it was so lustrous 
and wavy, and of that rare golden auburn shade which is 
so rich. The other was to hear her sing, especially when 
the child was unconscious that any one was listening ; the 
thoughts she would express in tones so beautifully adapted 
to them, were surprisingly sweet. It was nearly always, 
too, something of a wild, plaintive nature. Her voice 
was very high, clear, smooth and musical, and of great 
compass for a child. She would give some minor tones 
so thrillingly sweet, that they would pierce the heart, yet 
transport it. She never, though, or seldom, learned 
songs and sang with others ; her voice was never the same 
wffien she tried to guide it by another’s; she seemed em- 
phatically a child of nature in that respect, what she did 
well, she must do spontaneously, improvise her words and 
tune, and then I never heard sweeter. Her papa has 
often come home after riding alone with her and said, ‘T 
never heard anything diviner than the little daughter sang 
today,” or this evening whichever it might be. But 
after she had scarlet fever when about ten, her voice was 
never the same nor could she sing with as much ease to 
herself. 

A friend has just told me of two or three little things 
in relation to Daisy, which occurred when she visited us 
the first or second summer after we moved into our new 
home. She said one evening her papa had been reciting 
Whittier’s poem so popular then, 

“O, praise and tanks de Lord he come 

To set de people free,” etc. 


50 


STORY OF DAISY. 


When Daisy, as he finished, burst out crying and running 
to him put her arms around his neck and sobbingly said, 
“Oh, papa, I do feel so bad for the poor slave.” It took 
him some time to soothe her feelings, even by telling her 
of their more hopeful future. 

The other was a peculiar morning devotion of the 
little girl’s, although she thought not of it as such. I 
have often spoken of the abundance of lovely flowers 
around our home, and our darling’s enjoyment of them, 
but it seems that I did not know all her feelings or her 
manner of expressing them. She told this friend that she 
sometimes awoke very early in the morning, before any 
one in the house, and went in her “nighty” softly down 
stairs to see her flowers, and she would kneel down be- 
side them and kiss them, and pray for little children who 
had no such lovely flowers nor such a beautiful home. 
One morning at the same time as she lay in bed wdth this 
friend, she looked clearly and steadily into her eyes and 
said, — “Emma, I love homely people better than I do 
handsome ones. ” “ Why ? ’ ’ asked Emma. ‘ ‘ Because I 

feel so sorry for them,” she replied. She thus, no doubt, 
wished to express her sentiments towards Emma, as she 
was far from handsome, although she had a beautiful soul. 

Of a dear early friend who visited us that summer, 
though seldom seen by my Daisy, she said, — “Mamma, 
I know Auntie Brown; she is not fashionable and fussy, 
but quiet and good; she doesn’t talk sohnuch goodness as 
she acts it right out. ’ ’ This was most emphatically true ; 
she was one of the most actively good, unselfish of 
women. Our little girl’s intuition in regard to character 
was manifested much earlier in life by this little incident. 
A visitor of about her own age — six or seven — said to her 
one day with a very conceited air, — “Daisy, don’t you 
wish you was me?” Daisy at first felt deeply insulted, 
but when she came and talked to me about it, she said she 


STORY OF DAISY. 


51 


thought she ‘ ‘ ought to be sorr}' for a little girl who had 
so much vanit}^ rather than blame her.” 

Turning to my journal I find under date April nth, 
the following: “Have just returned from a short walk 
with my Daisy. We passed a little spring brook on the 
way and stopped a few minutes above it to watch the 
moonlight playing with its waters, and listen to its soft 
rippling murmurs. What music and joy in its low sweet 
prattle! What purity, brightness and fresh abounding 
life in its gladsome flow ! How charmed was my Daisy 
with the lovely sight and sound. She would never tire of 
wandering around in the beauty and sweetness of such a 
night, but we were not to remain long as papa was to read 
to us.” 

The next day my journal says: “It has rained since 
early morning, a quiet spring rain ; how gentle the constant 
patter on the young green grass; what a quickening in- 
fluence on the renewing life of outward nature. A dear little 
bird has been trilling its love song all day notwithstanding 
the rain, and by my side, my own little bird has been singing 
her sw^eetest song, content and happy to be with mamma, 
she says; and mamma’s heart has been so full of grateful 
joy for the blessed, ever-blessing child. Life seems very 
full, almost perfect in such days of deep quiet happiness 
with my darling. I am more weak than most, or many, 
mothers, perhaps, in my almost idolizing love ; can never 
have her long from my sight without fearful forebodings, 
and. she is never content in the home without knowing 
just wLere mamma is. If I chance to be at a neighbor’s 
or up town, when she returns from school, she starts im- 
mediately for me ; and what a delight to meet her on the 
way, always running at sight of me with open arms, and 
the impatient, sweet kiss of welcome.” 

In the little school she attended she read brief compo- 
sitions, written sometimes in school and sometimes in 


52 


STORY OF DAISY. 


great haste just before goingto school in the morning. I 
think the following is the first : 

GOODNESS. 

“We see goodness in everything and everywhere. 
How good in God it was to make everything so it can de- 
fend itself. And it is so wonderful to think there is 
nothing that cannot be loved or that cannot' love. Think 
of the darling Pearl (the name she had given the little 
brook below us) always so beautiful, sometimes running 
along its mossy path, stubbing its little toe on a stone 
and tumbling headlong over it, then picking itself up 
again, and running laughing out of sight. That is cer- 
tainly loved, and I think it loves to be there and to 
be loved. It is full of goodness, too, because we cannot 
look at it without it makes us want to be good. 

Daisy. ’ ’ 

The following few lines also in regard to the little in- 
sect whose notable chirp had always been of much interest 
to her, were written and read about the same time : 

CRICKETS. 

‘ ‘ People generally think crickets are rather lonesome 
insects and that their song is a very doleful one, but I 
think it is a very cheerful one. I have learned they do 
not chirp as most people think they do ; instead of mak- 
ing the noise with their throat, they make it by rubbing 
together the backs of their wings, which are very rough. 
I think they love to exercise themselves that way and 
must be happy in it, so it does not make me lonesome to 
hear them. 

Daisy.” 

And here is the last read during spring term. 

ANIMATS. 

‘ ‘Some animals are very beautiful and some are ugly. 
I went to a menagerie last Monday; I liked it very much, 
there were so many different animals ; some I had never 


STORY OF DAISY. 


53 


seen before. I saw there the first and onl}^ Eland that' 
has ever been brought to this country. I thought the 
mules did their work splendidly to go up and down stairs 
as they did. And so many cunning dogs were there. I 
never heard a dog sing before that day. I am teaching 
Fawny, my dog, to sit up and shake hands; Fido, my 
other dear little dog would. I used to put a dress of my 
doll on him, a sack and hat, and then have him sit up 
straight and shake hands ; sometimes I took hold of his 
paw and had him walk all around the room to make 
mamma laugh. I saw such a cunning little pony at the 
menagerie. How I should like to have a little pony ! I 
am in hopes that by next summer I may be the owner of 
one. I write most about the animals I like best — dogs 
and ponies. 

Daisy.” 

Early in the summer of this year a dear friend, Mrs. 
R., with her two children, a little boy two and a half 
years and a girl baby came and spent two months with 
us. It was a great pleasure to Daisy to have two “such 
sweet dear children” for company day after day. She 
had found great happiness in fondling and playing with 
baby Ada, a blue eyed, flaxen, curly headed little pet, 
and now to have so many little ones around, made her cup 
of enjoyment quite run over. I have no memoranda of 
the bright sunny days; find nothing in journal until Nov. 
25, ’67, as follows: “Have spent most of the evening 
with Daisy over her lessons. She had a long review 
(though her studies are not many,) as tomorrow her 
school closes. She has made as much progress as we 
desired to have her — more than we anticipated — as we 
have still adhered to our intention of letting her go only 
when she is well enough and wished to. We do not in- 
tend to “crowd her” in the least, but rather hold her 
back. She is sensitive and extremely nervous and will 
not bear it. We have no fear but that she can become a 
scholar if she has health, as she has quick perception 


54 


STORY OF DAISY. 


and excellent memory of things ; so our aim at present is 
to look well to her physical condition. Too many poor 
girls are nearlj^ ruined in health and robbed of a real 
thorough education by being hurried on through a course 
of text books when too young. If we can be wise enough 
to hold on to our present theory, ours may be spared.” 

An indescribable pang seized my heart as I finished 
copying the above and questioned whether we did. hold on 
to our theory; we thought we did — ^were governed by the 
best wisdom we possessed. The wisest can do no more. 


story of daisy. 


55 


CHAPTER X. 


The first of December Daisy and I were left alone in 
the home with the faithful domestic, Mary Ann, as her 
papa went to Washington to spend some time. It was a 
matter of much regret and sorrow to us all, the necessity 
of being thus separated; for our Daisy it proved almost 
unendurable. In my first letter written the day after her 
papa left, I say: 

“Our Dais3^ — bless her sweet soul! — is seated in your 
‘sermon chair,’ writing to her papa. You can hardly 
imagine how nearly heart-broken the dear child was after 
you were gone. You remember how you have seen her 
grieve for Fido. Well, her little heart was tortured in 
the same manner, only more so, because you were gone 
and to be gone. The anticipated absence makes the 
present doubly hard to bear. Fast night she said she had 
‘awful dreams’ about you, but she doesn’t want to make 
you unhappy by writing them to you. We hardly realize, 
I think, how much of her life is made up of your love and 
presence. I have to smile at some of her prayers since 
you left. This has just welled up from her little heart. 
‘God, I pray you to take good care of my papa; give him 
a good boarding place and help him make lots of money ; 
no, not enough to make him a rich man so he can’t get 
into heaven. But then I know he would be a good man; 
he would sell and give to the poor. . And please, God, 
don’t help make a miser of him, but let him have enough 
so we can all live together and be happy. ’ ’ 

When her papa had been absent two or three weeks, 
her cousin Fred, who was attending school at the academy, 
came and stayed nights with us, and helped to shorten 


56 


STORY OF DAISY. 


and brighten the long evenings. Then her cousin Lizzie 
came and made quite a long visit, helping Daisy to seem 
quite herself again. How delightful that kindly nature 
lets the child forget its sorrow in the loving companionship 
of one of its Own age in the pleasant pastimes and joys be- 
longing to it. • The unfailing resource for little girls is the 
dollies, with the cutting and making of garments, the limit- 
less dressing and undressing, and the variety of characters 
these little marionettes are made to assume in imitation of 
the little girls themselves. And then the pretty story books, 
are so amusing and entertaining. In such employment 
and varied means, time is robbed of its tediousness, and 
the heart of its trials. 

A letter to her papa at this time, December 13th, says: 
“Daisy is now reading to her cousin Lizzie; seems 
quite happy since she came ; but she wishes me to tell you 
in this letter that she cannot stay here alone all winter. 
You must either come home or she must go to Washing- 
ton. I asked her why she did not write you herself. ‘ ‘ Be- 
cause,’’ she said, “I can’t get the feeling all out, 
mamma, and you'can.’ The poor child thinks only your 
presence would enable her to express herself fully. ’ ’ Some 
of her first letters to her papa are missing ; the follow- 
ing is the earliest date of any found: 

Dear Papa: 

‘ ‘ I am very anxious to know how you like Washing- 
ton ; if you don’t like it better than we do to be here 
without you, I am very sorry for you. We called at Mr. 
R.’s today. Mamma told him she was anxious for a letter 
from you today. Mr. R. said he would give more to hear 
from you in a month from now. I thought he meant you 
would be homesick. Mamma says she expects you will 
very soon write to us to get ready and come on to you ; 
that you will say you can’ t stay there alone, and I know, 
dear papa, that we can’t stay here alone. Oh, papa, 
papa, it is so lonesome without yon. Tomorrow Fred is 
going home ; he wants mamma and me to go with him. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


57 


Aunt I^ouisa and Cousin Lizzie sent for us to come too ; 
I guess we shall go. I send you a goodnight kiss, dear 
papa, I must go to bed now. 

And here it is a good morning kiss, dear papa. I 
have just come from breakfast and it is fifteen minutes 
past nine. Mamma wants me to sleep in the morning as 
long as I can. Please tell me what time you have break- 
fast. Yesterday I made mamma a watch case for a Christ- 
mas present. But, good-bye, dear papa. 

Your loving daughter, 

Daisy.” 

Another letter of hers bearing no date : “I have been 
very lonesome tonight, dear papa, I am lonesome all the 
time for you. 1 have been looking over the books for 
sometime, but didn’t succeed in finding anything I wanted 
to read, and thought I would finish this letter. Mamma 
read me from Midsummer Night’s Dream yesterday. I 
thought it was very nice, and some of it very funny too. 
I wish dear papa, you would have us come to Washing- 
ton the next week after dancing school closes. But good 
night, dear papa, pleasant dreams with a hundred kisses. 

Your loving daughter, 

Daisy.” 

Partly for diversion, but also for instruction, she 
would receive in the entertaining and healthful exercise 
of dancing, she attended at this time one afternoon of 
each week a term at the children’s dancing school. She 
greatly enjoyed the exercise, seemed to learn very easily, 
and was much complimented for her graceful manner. I 
continue to copy from letters, hers and mine, addressed to 
her papa in Washington, as they contain most of the in- 
terest connected with her life during the fall and early 
winter. December 15, 1867, I write: 

Daisy can hardly wait for her Christmas present. I 
did not intend letting her know what it is to be, but she 
asked me the “first letter of it.” I told her M, not 
anticipating she would be any nearer a knowledge of it, 
when to my surprise she almost instantly exclaimed. 


4— S D 


58 


STORY OF DAISY. 


“It’s a music box !’’ I had been very careful not to give 
a hint to her, or any one in regard to it. I think she 
must be pretty “strongly intuitional, as you used to say 
sometimes. 

A letter from her bearing same date: 

My Dear Papa: 

“I received your good letter to me with mamma’s I 
thank you very much for my Christmas present you are 
to send. I wish every day we were in Washington with 
you, don’t you, dear papa? Why do the people call the 
place where the president lives the White House ? The 
next time you write please tell me, and tell me all about 
Washington. I am sorry you had so much trouble to get 
a good home. Instead of ‘ ‘laughing’ ’ as you thought we 
would at the awful time you had at that boarding place 
and the miserable dinner, I cried. But mamma and I had 
to laugh at the way you hurried away from there, — call- 
ing the first drayman you saw to come and take your 
trunk. Hope you will enjoy it better at the hotel. I 
enclose, dear papa, a little pincushion card as a small 
Christmas present, and wish you may have a merry 
Christmas. Good night and kisses, dear papa. 

Your loving, 

Daisy.’’ 

December 2 1 st I again write : ‘ ‘This has been a queer 

medley of a day. The early morning was windy and 
rainy, then for some time it was still, mild and sunshiny; 
now at half past three, the wind is blowing a perfect gale, 
with some sleet, and rapidly growing cold. Within 
doors, also, there has been rather an unusual experience. 
I aro.se quite early, as usual, and tried to dress, but found 
nn^self unable to do so; was very weak and faint. Daisy 
quickly perceiving “something was wrong with mamma” 
was up immediately and perfectly frantic in her anxietj^ 
to do something for me. Of course she could do nothing ; 
indeed I needed nothing done; have merely a cold, I 
think, and shall be well in a few days. But it would have 


STORY OF DAISY. 


59 


been amusing, had it not been so serious a matter with 
her, to see the worry and flurry and responsibility assumed 
by our little girl. She commenced a letter before she was 
dressed, even, telling you that “Mamma is awful sick” 
and that “you will have to come right home.” The 
thought that you would have to come right home no 
doubt greatly pleased her, but she would lament that 
mamma was sick enough to bring you. After a few 
hours resting I am able to be up and writing, as you see, 
consequently our Daisy is relieved and happy again. 

You know" it always has been, and still is, one of our 
darling’s habits to lie and talk, after she is in bed, with 
me, if I ^m with her, if not w"ith herself. It is ever a 
sweet pleasure to me to listen to the childish thoughts 
and fancies which come to her then, if possible. Last 
night after saying man}" tender things of you, she lay 
quiet a moment or so and then added, “mamma, you 
won’t tell anybody up town if I say something, w"ill you? 
because they will think I am naught}" if you do.” I re- 
plied “of course mamma could not do anything that 
would harm you darling.” “Well,” said she, “I do dis- 
like to have Sunday come; it is such along, dreary, lone- 
some day.” I told her it was not naughty for her to feel 
so, that she could not see w"hy Sunday should be so very 
different from any other day, and evSpecially not why it 
should be made such a day as that any one w"Ould have to 
feel that it was “long, dreary, and lonesome. Of cour.se, 
just now she misses you and the privileges w"e all enjoyed 
together when you were with us, but her idea evidently 
was that some restraints make it impossible for any one 
to be as happy on Sunday as on other days. When she 
gets a little older .she will understand some things much 
better. I told her she need not be afraid to have people 
up town know she thought something naughty, the only 
thing to be afraid of was naughty thoughts themselves. 


6o 


STORY OF DAISY. 


but I assured her the thoughts she had about Sunday 
were not naughty for a little girl like her.” 

Another letter of her’s written in December: 

“ Dear Papa: 

I have learned to waltz and enjoy it very much. 
Mary Ann has gone home to-day, and mamma and I were 
alone until Uncle Leonard came; he stayed to dinner 
with us. He was very anxious to know how you like 
Washington, wants you to write him. How do you like 
the “president who swung around the circle?” Oh dear, 
I have just spilt half of m3' ink, but fortunateh' I did not 
get an3^ on myself. And right here I must tell you, papa, 
that mamma has just answered a little note I wrote her a 
da}' or two ago. You know I like to write to mamma, 
'so as to have a nice little reply from her. She asked me 
in this one if I did not like to get letters from papa. I 
do, most certainl}^, papa, but I would enjoy a great deal 
more to have you here with us; it is so lonesome without 
you. Freddy came again this evening; he and I have 
had a nice little game ; I beat him — maybe he let me 
though; but I don’t want him to. We are having a very 
severe storm ; it hails now against the windows, and the 
old blinds rattle terribly in the wind. Oh, it is so dismal, 
dear papa, and to have you awa}" ! It seems some of the 
time as if the dear old house would blow down ; we can 
hear it crack at the bottom. Freddy says four rods of 
fence across the street blew down this afternoon, and a 
part of Mrs. W’s chimney has been swept away. You 
left just in time, dear papa, to escape the winter winds. 
Please write me a letter. I like one all by myself, 
although I enjoy what you write me in mamma’s. A 
thousand kisses. 

Your loving 

Daisy.” 

We were very much exposed to the cold west winds 
where we lived, and that was a very severe winter. Such 
a copdition of things made our home seem much more 
desolate with the “dear papa away,” but I tried to make 
it cheerful as possible for my little girl with books and 
‘games and little visitors, when we could have them. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


6l 


In my Christmas letter I wrote her papa : ‘ ‘ About 

eight o’clock this morning our Daisy came into the sit- 
ting room in her nighty, having just risen. She went 
towards the cozy corner where the big arm chair stands, 
and as she neared it she espied both of her stockings 
pinned to the back of it, filled as full as they could hold. 
She hadn’t expected anything but her music box, and 
after we learned that could not get here, she thought she 
should have rather a dull Christmas, especially as ‘ ‘ papa 
could not be here.” 

Last night she wanted me to promise that I would not 
do anything but play with her or do whatever she wished 
for Christmas. I told her that her mamma would be 
most happy to devote herself entirely to her, would be all 
hers for that day. She was greatly pleased with the con- 
tents of her stockings, and, while she is deeply interested 
in the variety of her presents so unexpectedly hers, I am 
writing fast as possible so as to give her my time when 
she wants it. As I look up, she has a very happy expres- 
sion on her sweet face, feels herself happily surrounded, 
I know, with her dollies and all their nice little furnish- 
ings, with her interesting books, and, on a table beside 
her, a dish of oranges, apples, nuts and choice candies. 
She seems to think she is quite rich, notwithstanding the 
absence of her music box. 

Late in the evening I again write: — “Daisy has just 
gone to bed and taken some of her presents with her. 

. Such gratitude as she feels and expresses for all. Thanked 
God for His present which was His love. Since I came 
out' of her room, she speaks of you with tears in her voice, 
as she regrets your absence today and that of her music 
box. I comfort her by saying it is better the box did not 
come, as it will make the Christmas hold out longer. In 
the mail this afternoon she received some books from 
Walter and Alice Powers from Brooklyn, Shortly after 


62 


STORY OF DAISY. 


they came Mr. R. called, bringiiig: her another,— one of 
the most handsomely bound and entertaining of books for 
children — 3’ou know he would bring her no other — 
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I have been reading 
to her from it this evening; she is delighted with it. Mr. 
R. stayed two or three hours with us ; was rich as usual 
in one of his wise, instructive talks. You know how in- 
terestedl}^ Daisy always listens to him. He, of course, 
manifested the deepest, most friendly interest in your 
present and future.” 

My next letter, dated January 5, 1868, I write: — 

‘ ‘ Commence my letter with oUr darling on my lap. She 
looks on and sees what I have written and says, ‘Oh, 
mamma, papa will say I am too heavy for you to hold and 
write.’ I replied, ‘No, he will not, when I tell him I 
want and must have you here.’ She came to me just as 
I seated myself with pen and paper before me with one of 
your letters for me to read to her. I took her in my arms 
to love and caress awhile, and still hold her as I write. 
She misses your caresses so much, still has times of 
agonizing over your absence. You know what the term 
‘agonizing’ means when applied to her, that really no 
other word will express her condition. But I trust she is 
improving a little in that respect and is growing stronger 
in every way the past two weeks. ’ ’ 

A letter from her papa written a short time after, 
giving a bit of a picture of our home life in the summer, 
made her happy in anticipation of the pleasant time to 
come : 

“Washington, D. C. 

But the winter will soon be over and gone, the 

robin will come again, and so will 3^our papa.” 

She thus replied to him: 

“Dfar Papa: 

I received your good letter to me. I was very glad 
to get another of my own. Mamma had one at the same 


STORY OF DAISY. 


63 


time. I was ver}^ glad to know we shall be here together 
again next summer. It seemed very funny, though, what 
you said about old Flora being hitched to a tree, ready to 
take us to ride, when mamma expects to sell her if she can. 
Sometime ago she .said you had written her she had better 
do .so, but I am much better plea.sed with what you write 
in my letter. It will be so much nicer if we can have 
Flora and Zep too next summer just as we used to. I 
shall be so glad to have warm weather come again, and 
the robin too, and you dear papa, will be here. Oh, I can 
hardly. wait for it all to come about. Mamma is now 
packing up the things for us to go up to Mrs. K’s; we go 
tomorrow morning. I think I .shall enjoy being uptown, 
it is so cold and lone.some here, and becau.se I can go out 
on tlie street more where there isn’t so much snow. I 
guess mamma will get me a very small sled which I shall 
enjoy more or better than the large one I now have. Mr. 
Valentine is here and talking so loud and fast I can’t 
^hink what I want to write. He is feeling quite rich over 
some apples mamma has just given him. Please write me 
soon again, dear papa. With a letter full of kisses. 

Your loving daughter, 

Daisy.” 

In the same envelope I sent a slip of paper with a car- 
icature of a little girl crying, which she had made and 
.written under it, “Poor me crying for my papa.” She 
added this post.script: 

“Dear Papa: 

Mamma will send this so plea.se don’t make too much 
fun of it. 


Daisy.” 


64 


STORY OF DAISY. 


CHAPTER XI. 


As intimated in our darling’s last letter, we concluded 
it was better for us to go up town and board, so the i8th 
of January found us established in the pleasant home of 
our long-time friend, Mrs. K. We were given a pleasant 
front chamber with the promise of more comfort and social 
cheer; the latter I especially coveted for our Daisy. Mrs. 
K. had a most lovely daughter of sixteen, Jennie, who was 
quite fond of our darling and whom she both admired and 
loved very much. Daily intercourse with one so young 
and agreeable, so inspiring in mind and heart, had a most 
happy effect upon our lonely little girl. She commenced 
taking lessons in music, took hold of the work very 
earnestly, but did not find it quite so pleasant as listening 
to her “sweet music box.” She was exceedingly fond of 
that, wrote her papa she “could listen to it forever;” said 
to me one day, “mamma, I can never express to you how' 
much I do enjo}^ that music, how it goes into my heart and 
makes me want to cry.” She was much touched by re- 
ceiving a letter from her papa, containing a good many 
new ten cent notes. She took the little bills, pressed them 
in her hands and to her lips, saying: “Papa has had 
them in his hands and nobody has touched them since. 
Oh, what a dear good papa.” She wrote him: 

“I thank you very much, deaf papa, for the nice little 
notes. I think too much of them as a present to want to 
spend them. You asked me, dear papa, how I liked board- 
ing. Very much, and I love Jennie better than ever, she is 
very kind to me and sometimes very funny too. And oh, 
papa, I like my music box more than I can find words to tell 


STORY OF DAISY. 


65 


you; would like to keep it going all the time. And I must 
tell you, mamma made me a present of a nice little diary on 
New Years. I haven’t written very much in it yet. I am 
so glad you are coming home ; you must stay more than 
two or three days, two weeks certainly, and then you must 
not go back without us. But goodbye, dear papa. A 
heart full of love and kisses. 

Your loving daughter, 

Daisy.” 

As she has just written she was ver^^ happy in her new 
surroundings. Jennie was a sweet singer and musician, 
as well as agreeable and intelligent ; she expressed her- 
self as finding much pleasure, in Daisy’s compan}^ said 
she ‘ ‘was as entertaining as almost any young lady she 
met.” Allie Perr^^, a young lady who visited us while 
there, said the same of our Dais3^ Indeed some years 
previous when we visited at her father’s and Allie kindly 
took our little girl into her care and keeping that we 
might attend a convention more freely, she said often 
when talking with her she would stop and ask, “Why, 
Daisy, how old are you?” her conversation so much sur- 
prised her. The secret of our darling being so interesting 
to Jennie and Allie was a mutual regard; she liked them 
very much and therefore they could draw her out. With 
those to whom she was not attracted, or who were not 
agreeable to her, she did not reveal herself at all. She 
was also very modest or reserved when in the presence of 
those for whom she had great respect for their dignity or 
superior wisdom and intelligence. I know Mr. R., one 
of our dearest friends who saw her frequently seemed 
quite surprised one day accidentally to see and hear her in 
one of her lively moods. “Why, Daisy,” said he, “I did 
not know it was possible for you to be so talkative and 
gay; you are always so repressed or overshadowed when 
we larger ones are around, we hardly know you as a child, 
or what you are.” That was truly so. And especially 


66 


STORY OF DAISY. 


was she quiet in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. R., because 
of her deep interest in their entertaining, instructive con- 
versation. She would prefer going with me to call on 
them to seeing her own pla5unates even. 

About this time I had a long and serious conversation 
with my darling on some of the laws and mysteries of our 
being, concerning some of the changes that await all, 
that she might not be unprepared for the developments of 
the future. I consider it a sacred privilege and duty of 
the mother to prepare the mind of the daughter, as well 
as she may from out her own experience, for what the 
years will bring her. I never seemed to anticipate or 
antidate anything for my Daisy : her quick apprehension 
and comprehension wisely appropriated all I gave her. A 
letter of mine to her papa about this time says : ‘ ‘ The winter 
with its bitter winds and storms, brightened now and then 
with fleet sunny days, is slipping away, bearing us on to a 
happy reunion. Our Daisy has beeu quite contented 
most of the time since we came up here. Mrs. K. and 
Jennie often come to our room, and in their witty, genial 
company, she has great delight or what she calls ‘real 
fun. (You know I am quite deficient in what she calls 
‘fun-making.’) But then she is never at a loss now to 
know how to be able to fill up the time. When all things 
else fail she has an ever present welcome resource in her 
music box ; that always absorbs and delights her, makes 
up for everything but the absence of her papa. She 
turned to me as she stood by it a few minutes ago with 
her deep eyes full of tears and said, “Mamma, I can’t 
help crying; that tune, that music is so sweet, it perfectly 
overpowers me.’ Her sensitive soul was all dissolved in 
the tender melody. She then threw herself on the bed, 
saying, — ‘Mamma, I feel that dear little thing with its 
sweet sounds is trying to comfort me because my papa 
is away. Mamma, when he comes home, he shall not go 


STORY OF DAISY. 


67 


back to Washington without me; I will not let him.’ 

‘ Then you can’t learn music, my dear,’ I replied. ‘Well,’ 
said she; ‘I guess my papa is more than music.’ And 
you ought to have seen the sudden change in her look, 
and the manner in which she said it. Your way of 
appropriating or transforming the adage — ‘A chip of the 
old block’ — would have occurred to you and you would 
have said, ‘ she is a chippus, ’ as you have often expressed 
her resemblance to you in her impulsive looks and ways. ’ ’ 

A few days after, her papa came home on a visit, and 
the happiest little daughter in the wide world seemed 
ours the day of his arrival. The following week, the 
time he remained with us was all too short, so full was it 
of love and happiness. To the inexpressible gratification 
of our darling it was decided when he left that she and I 
were to go on to him in Washington in a few weeks, or 
as soon as we could make the necessary preparations. 
Her little heart and hands were anxious to do all and 
more than they could to hasten our readiness for the 
journey. Those busy days I did not write as much in 
my journal, nor as many long letters to papa. One to 
him dated February 28, 1868, says : 

“Our Daisy has a new amusement to-day, blowing 
soap bubbles. I can but think as I watch her throw them 
out beautifully rounded and many hued upon the carpet, 
that we children of a larger growth, spend much time in 
a similar manner; so many short-lived, airy nothings 
visit our brains, so many rose-colored visions of the 
future, which vanish with the breath. But our darling 
is not sentimental over them like her mamma ; she is sat- 
isfied with the delight of seeing them grow, give forth 
their many pictures and prismatic beauties, then vanish 
in the air. Sweet, beautiful childhood ! Content in the 
innocent joys of the present, if only the heart is gratified 
with the presence of its loved ones. Yet the sorrows of 


68 


STORY OF DAISY. 


childhood, the griefs that visit their tender little hearts, 
seem to me more terrible, more unendurable than those 
which assail men and women in their maturity and 
strength. No one, I think, could suffer more than I 
have seen our Daisy, yet in the pleasure of her present 
employment, no one would dream she was ever denied a 
wish or visited with a grief of any kind.” 


STORY OF DAISY. 


69 


CHAPTER XII. 


March 19, 1868, found Daisy and me on our way to 
Washington. Upon arriving there we were soon estab- 
lished in large pleasant rooms on Uincoln Ave., near the 
City Hall. These, however, were to be resting places 
mostly, as we expected to spend much of our time in rid- 
ing or walking around sight-seeing. But the weather 
was much colder than usual there at that season of the 
year, and the first four or five weeks it was quite rainy, so 
it was hardly the gay delightful time anticipated for our 
Daisy, and she sometimes found herself rather lonely when 
her papa was out attending to his duties. In the little 
diary I gave her at the opening of the year are a few en- 
tries which I will copy. The first : 

“I am now in Washington with my papa. It is a 
large, nice place, and a great many new pleasant things 
to see. Have been to the White House and the Capitol ; 
expect to go again and learn a good many things w^hile 
there.” 

Wednesday. “Papa, mamma and I went to the top of 
the dome on the Capitol today. It is 264 feet high. It 
made us very tired to climb so many stairs, but we had a 
splendid view up there ; could see all over the city and 
across the river to the hills, and ever so far on every 
side.” 

Saturday. ‘ ‘ Papa took me to the market today. We 
went all over it. I saw the greatest quantity of things to 
eat I ever saw before. This afternoon it is raining and very 
gloomy. It makes me lonesome.” 

Monday. “Mamma and I went to the Capitol this 
morning and saw some large books of birds. They were 
life-sized and colored, and so beautiful. The humming 
birds were such dear sweet little things. How I wish I 


70 


STORY OF DAISY. 


could be where I could see all the pretty birds flying 
around and not so much afraid but that I could get near 
them.” 

Tuesday. “This has been a very unpleasant day. I 
was out on the street all the morning alone. Mamma 
was not able to go with me. This afternoon there came 
up the greatest blow I ever saw. We could not see across 
the street, there was so riiuch dust and sand in the air It 
was so dark I was afraid in the room alone. Mamma 
was lying down and I went on the bed with her. ’ ’ 

No date. “ Mamma got letters from Aunt Lottie and 
Aunt Nora today. I have written a short letter to them. 
I am now writing with a new little pen given to me at the 
Treasury. Papa, mamma and I went through the great 
building today.” 

April ist. “ I April-fooled the colored girl about tw^en- 
ty times this morning. She does talk so funny ! Went 
to market with papa again ; he got me a half bushel of 
oranges. Oh, I am so fond of them ! I shall have a 
feast. It is pouring down rain awfully this afternoon. 
It is very lonesome here when it rains.” 

Sunday, P. M. “ Went to church this morning. It is 
raining again so hard now. I have had a bad time to- 
day. I am so glad papa begins t*^ talk about going home 
soon.” 

Her first effort at keeping a diary would give but lit- 
tle idea of what took place with her in Washington. She 
writes but once more and only this : “ It is storming 

again. Oh, it is so lonesome when it storms here ! ” 

The poor dear child away from her home and pleasant 
surroundings, from all her little friends and playmates, 
with no acquaintance at all, and not yet old enough to 
appreciate the opportunities a visit to Washington af- 
forded, was, I knew at the time, somewhat homesick as 
her diary reveals ; yet I was not then aware of what she 
had written, ilor that she felt quite so badly. I remem- 
ber, however, one day when we received the Gazette — 
one of the papers published in our little town — how she 


STORY OF DAISY. 7 I. 

kissed it and cried over it as though it were a dear friend. 
It must have reached her on one of her lonesome days. 

We all had admittance to the Senate Chamber the 
first day of the “ Impeachment Trial ” shortly after we 
reached Washington. That, of course, was not a very 
great pleasure to her, only the seeing so many people and 
the fact that it was an unusual occasion, and everything 
she saw was new and grand to her. We also attended 
the last of the President’s receptions after our arrival. 
She greatlj" enjoyed the mUvSic, the brilliantly lighted 
rooms, the sight of so many beautiful ladies in full dress, 
and the honor of shaking hands with the President. 

She alwa5^s went with me when I visited the Senate or 
house, and when she was tired of listening to what 
seemed to her dull talking, or incomprehensible speeches, 
she would go into the ladies’ room where she could exer- 
cise or look out of windows on beautiful scenes and get 
plenty of fresh healthful breezes. 

She became quite familiar with the magnificent Capi- 
tol and delighted to walk about its beautiful grounds, 
looking after its earliest flowers and listening to the many 
sweet singing birds that filled the air with their melody. 
In the Botanical gardens where we saw many rare, curi- 
ous plants and trees from all parts of the world, she was 
most interested in seeing bananas growing on a large 
tree ; she was very fond of the fruit and liked to know 
all about it. 

We spent some time in the Smithsonian Institute look- 
ing over the many curiosities gathered there in the way 
of preserved animals, fishes, birds, reptiles, fossils, insect’s 
eggs, and shells, minerals, implements of warefare, etc., 
etc. We also found there what was of peculiar interest to 
our darling, some dolls, made by different tribes of Indians, 
fashioned and dressed in what seemed to her a rude, un- 
couth w^ay ; but she immediately fancied she could see the 


72 


STORY OF DAISY. 


little Indian girls playing with them, fondling and loving 
them as much as she did her own more beautiful one. 
They reminded us all of the kinship of hearts ; that to it 
belong the same natural feelings and demands under all 
colors of skin and in all parts of the world. 

Near by the Institute was the unfinished Washington 
monument. It had a grand beginning of white marble 
and was designed when completed to be the loftiest, most 
magnificent thing of the kind on the earth. We went into 
a building near it, in which there was a collection of 
blocks of almost every kind of stone and metal, with 
various inscriptions and designs, sent from all parts of the 
world, to be used in the finishing of the great memorial.* 

In the Patent Office we saw many rare things, relics of 
Washington, Franklin, Lincoln, etc., presents from am- 
bassadors and models of patents without number, many of 
them seeming to require the genius which created them to 
comprehend them. Of course, my Daisy saw all of these 
things more with wonderment than anything else; and so 
of her visit to the Treasury. Yet she often had attention 
from persons we met. which were somewhat flattering and 
very agreeable to her. 

Many were the places, however, where I took her 
which afforded her the greatest delight. One morning we 
spent some time in the public rooms of the White House 
and -going over the public grounds and into Lafayette 
Square, where we sat a long time in the shade enjoying the 
delicious air and the sweet singing of the birds, wLile we 
watched several children at a little distance on the green 
sward having rare sport with their Easter eggs. Then 
a ride to Georgetown, around the “Beautiful Heights’’ 
was a memorable joy to Iier. One afternoon we went to 
a children’s dancing school. She watched with peculiar 
enjoyment, enhanced by her own delightful experience. 


Now finished as designed and is the grandest monument in the world. 


vSTORY OF DAISY. 


73 


the airy, graceful movements of the fairy little forms in 
their beautiful dresses. She was most interested in one 
of the president’s grand-daughters, a lovely child about 
her own age I should think ; slender and graceful, with a 
sweet face and beautiful wavy, blonde hair which hung 
below her waist. She watched her almost continually in 
the dance and said she thought she should be the happiest 
of children if she had such a lovely little sister. 

While we were in Washington a statue of our deeply 
lamented Lincoln erected in front of the City Hall was 
dedicated. Our rooms were very near, so that we could 
see and hear all that took place. Thousands were present, 
and among the number, a third as many black faces as 
white ones. 

Several bands discoursed the sweetest, most pathetic 
music while the people were gathering and the prelimin- 
aries being arranged. 

When the dignitaries arrived, the President, Foreign 
Ministers, etc., there was a prayer, an address, dedication 
by the Masons, and the unvailing of the statue by Presi- 
dent Johnson. Every hat was lifted in profound silence 
as appeared in simple maje.sty, the strong face, and state- 
ly form of the man so much loved and reverenced by 
every loyal heart. It had been a rainy morning, but was 
pleasant during the ceremonies. Near night it rained 
again, but just before sunset the clouds rolled back to 
the East, the sun came out, and one of the most beauti- 
ful rainbows I ever beheld revealed itself above the monu- 
ment. It was a touching, beautiful sight, as if the heav- 
ens in emulation of the place our noble Lincoln held in 
the hearts of the people would give him of their glory, 
and thus crown even his image in stone with the regal 
splendors of the “ Bow of Hope.” 

My Daisy watched it until the last vestige of its hues 
had disappeared, when she expressed the wish that the 


74 


STORY OF DAISY. 


thoUvSands who were there a little while before could 
have remained “to witness the most beautiful part of the 
ceremony, that which God had just performed above the 
statue.” 

During the afternoon, while the crowd filled all the 
streets, her papa discovered General Grant under our 
windows, and said to Daisy: “Now daughter if you 
want to see the next President go right down and look at 
him !” 

She put on her hat and started, we watching her from 
above. 

She went clo.se up to him, turning up her quizzing 
little face toward his, gave a long look, then walked all 
around him, still looking up. Grant in his interest in 
the scenes before him, was utterly oblivious of the 
scrutiny he was undergoing, would hardly have observed 
even the particular notice of a child any way, or at an}^ 
time perhaps. 

When she had satisfied herself, and came back, her 
papa asked her what she thought of him. She replied: 
“I don’t see anything ver}- wonderful about him ; he is a 
great man, I suppose, and may be the next president, but 
he doesn’t look any greater to me than the most of men.” 
All who have even seen the truly great man will not be sur- 
prised that the child discovered nothing very unusual in 
his general appearance. 

The 15th day of May we left Washington for Brook- 
lyn, where we were to spend a few days with our friends, 
the Powers. We had a delightful day for traveling, cool 
and a little rainy, and so happy was our “Dais}^” because 
she was on her way home ! Her mind was not so ab- 
sorbed with that thought, however, but that her eyes 
were open to the beauties of the country through which 
we were passing; it was especially beautiful from Wash- 
ington to Philadelphia, and past that city of twentj^-five 


STORY OF DAISY. 


75 


miles in length. We were in Brooklyn nearly two weeks. 
Our Daisy did not seem very happy while there, nor 
agreeable as usual. 

Perhaps homesickness, or a haste to reach home, now 
she was on her way, affected her somewhat, and probably 
she had been overtaxed while in Washington, although 
we none of us realized it at the time, which left her very 
nervous. Our friends had three very bright children, two 
boys and a girl. The elder boy was near her age, and a 
great wit and “tease.’"’ Daisy was unused to that kind 
of playfulness, did not know how to accept it pleasantly, 
and therefore made herself more offensive to him, I think, 
than ever to any other child or person. 

We particularly regretted it, as his parents were to us 
very dear friends. But her individualty could not be 
overshadowed nor thrust aside because of our regard for 
them. Perhaps I should say rather that her physical 
condition at that time, left her powerless to control her 
feelings when greatl}^ antagonized. 

We spent but one day over in New York, and much of 
that time at the Mercantile Tibrary, and at Goupil’s 
where were on exhibition some fine collections of paintings. 

A walk along Broadway gave us such a sense as we get 
nowhere else, of being in the great world of excitement and 
of wealth, and amid the rarities and luxuries which wealth 
affords. But we could admire without envy, feeling that 
we had an enjoyment of the result of wealth which even 
the possessors themselves, perhaps might not be able to 
realize. We akso went one evening to seeRistori in “Sor 
Teresa,” I speak of this because we went without our 
Daisy, and afterward so much regretted leaving her, (a 
thing we seldom did, ) even to see the greatest of trage- 
diennes. Could I have forseen she would have such a 
terrible experience as she described to me afterward — 
(“Such awful feelings to know you were gone” — she 


76 


STORY OF DAISY. 


knew she “could never live and have any more such”) 
she certainly would have been spared all, at any cost, or 
seeming sacrifice. It gave me the greatest sorrow when 
she told me her extreme suffering, and the feeling is in- 
tensified to recall it now. To think that my darling 
should ever have so longed for her mamma’ s presence and 
had it not, pierces me to the soul. 

May the 26th we took the steamer Drew, a “floating 
palace,’’ it seemed to us, so richly and beautifully fitted 
up, for a ride up the Hudson, on our way home. We 
were sorry not to have a day boat, but there was “none 
running.’’ The long days however, enabled us to pass 
much of the beautiful scenery before night came upon us; 
and when at la.st it came and w^e had watched and dreamed 
through the deepening twilight’s purple shade, there was 
the beautiful radience of a half grown moon, with venus 
beside her, and all the “starry host’’ to light up the 
waters and reveal the gloomy depths of the bold highlands 
and palisades. 

The latter were even grander and more beautiful it 
seemed to me, than they could be in the full light of day. 
The wonderful scenery filled the soul of our darling with 
the greatest delight and admiration. To be gliding along 
over the smooth beautiful water and at the same time 
have spread out before her such grand and lovely pic- 
tures, was the height of enjoyment. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


77 


CHAPTER Xlll. 


We finally reached home near night the first day of 
June. Everything seemed to breathe a welcome, the 
bending heavens, the fiuttering leaves, the sweet singing 
birds and every nodding bud and smiling blossom which 
turned their beautiful faces toward us, while the dear 
friends who had occupied the house during our absence, 
gladly opened the door with most affectionate greeting. 
The grounds never looked more beautiful. Daisy was- 
almost wild with joy. There was ‘ ‘ no place in all the 
world like it!” Every blade of grass even, was dear to 
her. 

Her little feet skipped merrily about the walks, among 
her ” dear flowers,” and over to see her pet Ada, and the 
” Wee Nam in the Calo,” as Ada called her baby sister 
in her cradle, who had come during our absence. 

We did not wait long before making a visit at the old 
homestead. 

A family party met us there, and .such enjoyment was 
ours, as all fond hearts have realized after a separation of 
months and among strangers, in being restored to the 
sunny atmosphere — the kindly tender influences of lov- 
ing kindred and home. On our return from there, we 
called at “Uncle Gid’s,” the home of Daisy’s cousin Eiz- 
zie. Daisy could not wait long for an embrace from her. 
Their love strengthened with their growth. A perfect con- 
trast to each other, they were in looks — Daisy with her 
dark eyes, dark complexion and rich browm curls ; and Liz- 
zie with her gray blue eyes, lily face and long flaxen curls.. 


78 


STORY OF DAISY. 


The more strongly attractive to each other perhaps because 
of the unlikeness. 

An unbounded happiness was surely manifest in their 
reunion. Gaily they went tripping and dancing around, 
with cousins Fred, Frank and Will to share in, or add to 
the abounding joy under the loving eye of the ever de- 
voted Licia, through the garden among the flowers, to the 
barn to see the “bossies,” the favorite “colties,” hunting 
the fresh laid eggs, looking over the chickens, ducks and 
turkeys. Daisy always saw a great deal of beauty in the 
plumage of even these “domestic birds,” has gathered up 
the little feathers shed around the 3mrd and displayed 
them as a collection of marvellous loveliness many 'nian3' 
times, when a very small child. 

I have them now as she carefull3" laid them away in 
little boxes. 

A ride home that evening in the beautiful moonlight 
brought to a close the enjoyments of a very happy day. We 
finally concluded to try living in some chambers we had 
reserved when we rented our house (not knowing we 
should return so soon) rather than boarding. Daisy 
entered into the new arrangement with the greatest enthu- 
siasm, as she preferred “mamma’s table, to any other,” 
and she was delighted with the idea of assisting about the 
work. 

Her little feet ran up and down stairs many times to 
‘ ‘ save mamma. ’ ’ 

Never was a child more watchful and tender. She 
would stud3" my face to see if I looked “tired” or in any 
way felt badly. If she thought she discovered either, 
one little hand would creep softl3" over my face, the other 
arm twine itself around m3^ neck, and in most pleading 
.sympathetic tones she would say, “Mamma, you must 
rest,” or “Mamma, don’t feel bad.” If she thought she 
had said or done anything to trouble me, “Mamma, 


STORY OF DAISY. 


79 


please forgive me, won’t you?” I never waited for her 
to suffer, or repent a little more, if she had been in 
any way at fault, but always met her on the way of her 
return to the right. 

One day in her impulsive, sympathetic amiability, she 
said: “Mamma I feel as though, if papa or I should ever 
say anything harsh, or that made you feel bad, we ought 
to have our tongues cut off.” I replied, “not so bad as 
that darling Mamma would always know that the real 
papa or the real Daisy, would never, could never say or do 
anything that they thought could hurt her. ’ ’ 

, My journal will now aid me in recalling many par- 
ticulars of the summer, many things otherwise entirely 
forgotten. 

June 22d r write: “Had rather an unusual instance of 
Daisy’s “absence of mind,” or absorption of mind would 
better express the condition to me. I was reading to her 
from Grace Greenwood, when she complained of having 
the toothache. I said to her, press your hand against the 
cheek and it will ease the pain I think. Had previously 
found I could do nothing better for it ; I read on for some 
time, she listening intently, when she discovered all at 
once, to her great merriment, and mine too, that she had 
been covering the ‘wrong side of her face.’ ‘Oh, 
mamma,’ she exclaimed, ‘isn’t that too funny for any- 
thing, to be so interested in a story as to try to cure a 
sick tooth by nursing a well one?’ 

She of course suffered from the pain, but was so much 
engaged in what I was reading as to be heedless just 
where it was located. 

She was somewhat given to abstractions. I have 
often seen her when I was not doing anything to attract 
her attention, and she was lost to all outward things, sit 
for a long time with a dreamy far away look as though 


80 


STORY OF DAISY. 


visiting with angels, or rapt in some lovely scene or sound, 
such a sweet serene, happy expression rested on her face. 

Journal July. “The Fourth was spent with the chil- 
dren, torpedos and fire crackers on the lawn under the 
trees. The trees are delightful refuge these very warm 
days; we are under them early and late. Fire-works in 
the evening. ’ ’ 

We contemplated about that time, building a seat or 
summer house in the large old apple tree, I have often 
mentioned. Daisy had not forgotten her papa’s letter 
foreshadowing such an event, and was delighted with a 
renewed agitation of the subject. She did not wait for 
its accomplishment, however, without seeking the old- 
time enjoyment she had often found in her favorite resort, 
and spent many an hour in dreaming and reading, sweetly 
resting in its caressing motherly arms. 

July 13th, I write in Journal : 

“Daisy has had one of the rarest enjoyments of her life 
to-day. About nine this morning a hack drove to the 
door with Dr. H of Buffalo and his three little children. 
The eldest, Corrinne, is about Daisy’s age, and a very 
sweet, attractive, intelligent girl, whom Daisy very much 
loves, and Corrinne’ s heart responds with a like feeling 
towards her. 

Quite often have the little friends met at one home or 
the other, as the parents of each are also warm friends. 
All this lovely summer day the children have been flitting 
around, busy as bees, and happy as birds. The papa’s, 
have had great enjoyment in their own communion, and 
pure delight in watching the children in their playful 
pastimes. But the day drew to a close, and the sweet 
enjoyment with each other, and with lovely nature, must 
also close. The lingering farewell kisses were given, the 
loving good-by’s spoken, and the visitors departed for 


'STORY OF DAISY. 


8l 


their city home, just as the full round moon lifted its- 
mild loving face above the eastern horizon. 

Thus far our Daisy had only had opportunity for brief 
calls on cousin Tizzie, and that was hardly satisfactory to 
either. So one evening her cousin Fred came for her 
and Rena and Kttie, the two young girls living in the 
house with us, to go and spend a day or two with them. 
We consented, though as ever with reluctance on my 
part, to have my Daisy absent from me any length of 
time, especially nights.” 

The next morning I write in journal: 

“How still the house this morning, no children. How 
desolate had we not hope of their speedy return ! If the 
absence of loved ones brings such loneliness, when we 
feel they will soon come back to us, what must be the sor- 
row and anguish of heart to know that hope is forever 
darkened, that nevermore in this world can there be a 
happy return. None but those suffering from such a 
terrible reality can know the desolate void, the over- 
whelming despair. ’ ’ 

The next night I write : 

‘ ‘ What breezy freshness and joy filled our home again, 
when the dear children came bounding in from their de^ 
lightful visit,, this evening! Happy childhood brings 
with its presence the music of birds, the glory of the .sun, 
the loveliness of all sweet bright things.” 

Sometime latter in the summer, her papa was to be 
absent a few days, so Daisy and I went up to the old 
home to spend the time. 

The first evening after reaching there, it seemed to me 
the moonlight never nestled more sweetly and tenderly 
among the branches of the dear old trees, or lay more lov- 
ingly on the grass beneath them. 

Daisy and I went out and sat in the swing, a large 
comfortable one on the front yard. She is always so 


STORY OF DAISY. 


S2 

happy to have me enter into anything like the recreation 
of children with her. We did not move back and forth, 
merely sat there, knowing it was a swing. Mingled with 
the enjoyment of my darling’s sweet talk, and loving em- 
braces, there came over me the old feelings that used to 
visit me on that dear spot. There had been man 5 ^ 
changes, but the same skies were above me, I was under 
the dear old trees, the music of whose leaves was dear as 
ever in the gentle wind, — the crickets chirp, and the song 
of the Katydid blended with all the other endearing 
sounds of the evening, and added to these, but sweeter, 
dearer far was the voice of ni}^ darling, and her deep, ten- 
der appreciation of all that was lovely and beautiful on 
that summer night. She loved to have me talk of the 
past, tell her of my childhood and girlhood, and what my 
father and mother used to say to, and do for me. It was 
an hour or two of such sweet c6mmuning as will never be 
forgotten. 

Next day we walked a- part of the way through the 
fields, for the pleasure of such a change, up to “uncle 
Leonard’s.’’ We were delightfully entertained with the 
singing of aunt Nora and her boys for a while, after 
•which Daisy’s progress in music was looked after, her 
auntie always manifesting much interest in it, and kindly 
assisting her whenever opportunity offered. Our visit at 
this time was rather a brief one — papa coming after us 
sooner than anticipated, with a new horse he had just 
bought. 

Daisy called it the “gay dancing dolly.’’ It was very 
spirited, pretty and small, almost met her expectations of 
the “pony’’ she had heard and dreamed about since she 
could first understand the meaning of the word. 

She came fo appreciate it very much after the manner 
she had anticipated using the Gyp pony of babyhood. It 
was, as we learned, “such a furious little thing to go,’’ 


STORY OF DAISY. 83 

however, I never felt it very safe to trust her far away 
alone. 

But the vein of wildness, or spirit of daring in her 
nature was more clamerous than usual with her, and we 
indulged it in her riding as far as safety permitted. It 
was the long looked for delight to her, and we were thank- 
ful she could have so much pleasure and no harm come 
of it. 

I have here a little note book, in which Daisy occa- 
casionall^^ wrote a few sentences, as she had leisure from 
her studies, sometimes dated, sometimes not. The first, 
written in spring it is evident. 

“I am so glad the summer is coming, the birds and 
all the sweet flowers. I can hardly wait, but will 
have to.” 

June 3d, 1869. ” It is a pleasant day, but so warm. 

The roses will soon be in blossom. I watch them every 
day. We have so many lovely ones such a variety. Hope 
Kitty, Mary and I can go riding after school — I am sure 
lean.” 

June 6th. “Oh, I have had such a splendid horse- 
back ride this morning. I enjoy that way of riding very 
much — better than in a carriage. Teacher is out now. 
Martha, Jennie and Freddie have all whispered— they 
keep whispering, but not to me — they know it would do 
no good.” 

June 14th. “ It is a lovely day, and we have so many 

beautiful flowers in bloom. The yellow rose bush is all 
covered with gold. Uncle Richmond brought me for a 
present to-day a little coach-dog. It is very pretty and I 
shall love it very much, but it can never be so dear as my 
poor lOvSt little Fido ! ” 

Very soon after this, ” Cousin Lizzie,” made Daisy a 
visit of three or four days, which enabled them to have 
much pleasure together in riding ‘ ‘ Dolly ’ ’ beside tho- 
roughly enjoying themselves generally. Everything 
about the house and grounds was appropriated to their 
use so far as desirable, and with housekeeping in the 


STORY OF DAISY. 


play room, dressmaking for the dollies, etc., etc. They 
were two very busy, and very happy little girls. In the 
midst of it all, one of the most delightful surprises they 
could experience came upon them. ‘ ‘ Dear sweet Abbie 
as Daisy called her, was seen at a little distance driving 
towards our door. Never heard I more rapturous ex- 
pressions of joy than burst forth from the little girls, as 
she drove up to the gate. Dais}" could not wait to open 
the gate to reach her, but leaped over it and would have 
been as speedily in the carriage, only the horse would not 
stand still long enough. Lizzie was not quite so impetu- 
ous and daring, but quite overjoyed at seeing “dear 
Abbie.” She, (Abbie) was a great favorite with child- 
ren, and indeed, with all, and no wonder with her sweet 
amiable face, and loving, lovel}’ ways. She remained 
only the afternoon with us — was to return to her distant 
home the next day. “Cousin Lizzie” went home the 
same evening also, leaving us with a deep, restful calm 
after so much exciting jo}^ and happiness. 

Near the first of September the little private school 
commenced again. The teacher first opened such a 
school on account of her orphaned neice, Kitty, of tvhom 
she had the care. She was a modest intelligent girl, with 
a sweet kindly disposition, a little older than Daisy, and 
to her a most congenial companion and friend. 

Daisy was eager for attendance at school, and we 
thought she seemed better able to endure the confinement 
than ever before. But in three or four weeks there was 
such an evident change in her, she grew so pale and 
nervous, we became anxious and took her from school 
and went up to the old home, the great healer and soother 
of many of life’s troubles and ailments. 

She enjoyed the ride there wonderfully. Her admir- 
ing eyes were constantly on the alert for delicate, or the 


/ 


STORY OF DAISY. 85 

more gorgeous, beautiful autumn tints we saw on every 
side on the way. 

Every few minutes she would cry out‘ fearing we 
might fail to see all the splendors which delighted her — 
“Oh, papa, Oh, mamma, do look! was there ever any- 
thing so beautiful?” We could most sincerely say — 
“Never,” for nowhere in all the land are there more 
variegated, more beautiful, more gorgeous autumn tints 
to be found than in Western New York. To ride about 
the country at that time is a continual feast for eye and 
soul. We, Daisy and I, spent several days at the old 
home, rambling around the dear familiar places. 

We went all over the large orchard, rich with ripe, 
ruddy fruit ; I telling her, where with the other children 
we found the best apples when I was a child, and where 
we sometimes with our little visitors ran down the hill 
through the tall grass to see the nice paths we could 
make ; a feat not very much desired or approved of by my 
father we afterward learned, as it neither assisted the 
mowing, nor improved the quality of the hay. 

We also wandered down to willow brook, a beautiful 
little stream near which in summer the meadow violet, 
and golden buttercup so bountifully gladdened my eye 
when a child, and followed its winding bed up through 
the meadow to a little wood where it was fed by the pure 
sparkling water of an ice cold spring, and under a large 
Maple seated ourselves for rest. 

There ever in the springtime the sweetest wild flow- 
ers lifted up their glad faces wkh smiling welcome at 
every step, and* every tree was musical with the thrilling 
love song of happy birds returned to their summer home. 

But then, instead of bird note sweet, we were greeted 
with the chatter and scramble of the nimble squirrel with 
now and then a halt, and questioning look at the intruders 
— the eager, scared, racing of the chipmunk, and the 


86 


STORY OP DAISY. 


flitting here and there of a stray silent bird, not yet de- 
parted for the southern clime. 

And through and over all came the soft sighing of the 
autumn wind making sad melody, and dalljdng with a 
gentle touch among the bright mosses, kissing softly the 
many hued lichens and wandering on through brake and 
fern, and over the fading grasses far away, leaving a 
farewell murnier in its path. We spent most of the time 
the few days we were theie out in the delicious invigorat- 
ing air, and an access of strength and newness of life was 
visible in the nervous tired little girl. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


87 


CHAPTER XIV. ' 


On returning home and trying school again, we found 
it impossible for our darling to endure the confinement 
and decided to give her an entire change, to take her on 
a visit to Michigan where my youngest brother and 
family resided. We would all go — her papa make a short 
stay, while Daisy and I would remain some weeks. 
Leaving home about the middle of October, we made a 
short visit in Buffalo and gave Daisy the pleasure of two 
or three happy hours with her dear Corrinne. 

Reached my brother’s next da}' about noon. Doors 
and arms were open to receive us, a mutual happiness 
filling all hearts at a reunion after so long a separation. 

There were but four in the family, uncle George, aunt 
“Dida,” cousin Willie,^ nine 3^ears old and sweet little 
Carrie, but thirteen months. Daisy was soon rested from 
her journey, and very happy with her new found cousins. 

She had met Willie four or five years previous when 

he visited L , but little Carrie — the ‘ ‘White Rose Bud,” 

as Daisy’s papa soon named her, was a new treasure 
which she wished to appropriate almost entirely to her- 
self — she was such a marv^el of beauty and sweetness. 
Willie and Carrie’s grandpa and grandma very soon called 
to give us welcome and invite us to visit them. 

Their home was about four miles distant in the country, 
and somewhat resembled a southern plantation ; consist- 
ing of a large well stored farm house with several tenant 
houses near around it supplying ‘‘help to carry on” a farm 
of six or eight hundred acres. Daisy greatly enjoyed visit- 
ing there, as did all — there was such a sense of largeness 


88 


STORY OF DAISY. 


and liberty, such willing dispensers were they of the 
most generous hospitality. “Aunty W,“ as Daisy called 
her aunt Dida’s sister, who generally visited with us, had 
but one child, “Freeny,” his name, a little older than 
Daisy. He and Willie were the only companions or play- 
mates Daisy had, save little Carrie; but they were so 
bright, so polite and kind, time passed most happily with, 
her. 

I permitted her a good deal of freedom for “fun” and 
“romping,” whth much close watching of course. One 
day after a short absence from me, I went out to find she 
had climbed a straight ladder to the top of the barn. 
(Showing she needed watching, though this time the care 
came a little late.) As I looked at the height and the 
danger, a shudder passed over me, with a sigh of profound 
thankfulness that no harm had come of it. Her papa had 
always indulged and encouraged her in feats of daring or 
climbing as a help to physical development, and also as a 
gratification of a vein of freedom — loving wildness in her 
nature. We neither of us favored the theory that boys 
should have all the advantages of out door, playful ex- 
ercise. 

Too much restraint of the girl-life weakens and lessens 
the energies in every direction. Nature gently controlled 
from excesses is a pretty safe guide in all things. 

Her papa’s visit was necessarily a brief one and after 
his return home, Daisy very lovingly remembered him 
with some letters. 

The following the first: 

Dear Papa; 

“I do hope you won’t be too lonely while we are away. 
We miss you very much since you left us. Tittle Rose- 
Bud is now having a ride in her carriage, but is not well 
enough to ride out of door today. No doubt she w^ould 
send you a kiss if she knew how to tell me to send it. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


89 


Dear papa, you need not worry about me — I am all 
well except a cold — we all have colds. We visited at 
Auntie W.’s yesterday, — it is very pleasant there — -wish 
you could have been with us. Just before supper we had 
a very happy time — Freenie, Willie and I especially. I 
am now going to get a kiss from little Carrie and send 
you — here it is, X. 

Oh ! papa, she is the dearest little thing, and so cun- 
ning! Almost every time at table she “makes believe 
cry!” She will put her chubby hands over her face, yet 
separate the little fingers so she can see all- the time, 
knowing we are laughing at the terrible cry she is trying 
to put on. 

Then she will fix her sweet little mouth in an awful 
funny way to look like Fanny — the colored girl ! 

I do have so much fun with her, papa. I send love 
to Ettie, Ada and all. Love and kisses for you dear papa. 

Your loving daughter, 


Daisy.” 


While there one Sunday morning at church, the Meth- 
odist minister preached on “Games and Gaming.” 

His first sentence was this — 

“Gaming is the great sin of the nation.” Daisy 
turned to me and whispered, “Mamma, I don’t believe 
that !” She meant no disrespect to the minister, but hav- 
ing heard the remark that the “American people did not 
have recreations enough,” and having been taught that it 
was the abuse of any simple amusement or game that 
made it wrong or sinful, the bold exprevssion made struck 
her as not being true and she impulsively said so. 

November 9th, the following from her: 

“Dear Papa: 

Seeing mamma’s letter here ready to go to you I will 
send a few lines. 

Little Carrie is under the table where I am writing 
and you can imagine there is some laughing done here, 
and that I am having more fun with her than I am giving 
attention to my writing. I have something very funny, 
and quite shocking too, which occurred with little Carrie, 


5— s D 


90 


STORY OF DAISY. 


to tell you, but will have to wait until I come home, as 
mamma wants to send the letter to the office. Tell Ettie 
to tell my playmates I send my love to them all, but I 
haven’t time now to write their names. 

With a heart full of love and many kisses for you, 
dear papa. 

Your loving daughter, 

Daisy. ’ ’ 

Our happy visit, with much improvement for our dar- 
ling must come to a close. The night before leaving 
while at supper a very sad feeling came over me. All at 
once all became silent, and that strangely subtle, magnet- 
ic feeling so indescribable, yet so deep and powerful, had 
taken possession of each of us. Tears came into Daisy’s 
eyes, but she tried to conceal them ; “ Uncle George ” — 
“royal-hearted man,’’ as Daisy’s papa called him, yet 
tender as a woman, tried to stay the tide by saying some- 
thing, and broke down. Daisy came to the rescue by 
vsaying “Uncle George are you choked?’’ 

The intended lightness and the real absurdity of the 
question instantly changed the current of feeling, and 
threw us all into a most ridiculous fit of laughter! What 
a m5^stery the human heart, so quickly responsive to the 
lightest touch of joy or sorrow ! 

Very soon after leaving the table, little Carrie was 
taken to her grandma’s to remain while her papa and 
mamma accompanied us as far as Detroit on our way 
home. What a long parting Daisy had with her — how 
many fond kisses given — how hard to let her go from 
her arms! And yet we none of us discerned the stray 
flecks of cloud bordering the horizon of our sky at that 
time ! 

Remained in Detroit over night and after tender leave- 
taking of Uncle George, Aunt Dida and the dear friends 
there we started on alone. It was a dreary day, and the 
sparsely inhabited, unattractive country — Canada — in- 


STORY OF DAISY. 


91 


tensified the cheerless, tiresome ride. The one buoyant 
thought was, that every turn of the clattering wheels — 
which Daisy said seemed to say — “coming papa, coming 
papa! ” brought us nearer to him, and when we at last 
reached the home depot, she could hardly wait for him 
to reach us, but gave a spring forward and he caught her 
'■ in his arms. He told her that he felt like petting the old 
engine when it came puffing up before him, because it 
was bringing him his treasures. 

To meet her playmates, Kttie, Mary, Kitty and Ada, 
was a heart pleasure manifestly mutual, as the little girls 
welcomed her with warmest greetings. 

Shortly after our return we enlarged and fitted up 
anew a room more pleasantly connected with ours, which 
enabled me more easily to watch over our darling during 
the night. I always went to her bed, certainly once dur- 
ing her sleep, sometimes two or three times, to see that 
she was covered properly, and the windows open or closed 
as necessary with the changes of the weather, and that 
she seemed well as usual. 

She was not disturbed at my visits — would not wake, 
but at the time she seemed to feel me near, and would 
say, “Kiss me, mamma,” and sleep on. 

I find the following in my journal at this time: 

‘ ‘ My darling is sitting by the window, watching the 
first furious snow storm of the season. There was an in- 
cessant fall for two or three days, with the winds raging 
in all their wildness, carrying the snow in all directions, 
disposing it in all shapes, and heaping it up in immense 
drifts. She could hardly have had more interesting en- 
tertainment. Her temperament was such that she entered 
with great zest into the tumultuousness of the elements. 
There was never too great a gale of wind, too blinding a 
snow storm, or too hard a rain in summer when she was 
well, that she did not express a desire to be out in. And 


92 


STORY OF DAISY. 


yet none could be more appreciative of nature in her 
softer, serener moods. She would sit in the most rapt 
stillness, watching simply the movement of the leaves in a 
gentle breeze. 

She said to me one day, after watching them intently 
for some time — “mamma how happy the leaves must be 
to dance all day in the wind ! They seem to be laughing 
and talking with each other just as we children do. I can 
hear them, don’t you?” And then again, “mamma, did 
you see that beautiful leaf wandering off all alone in the 
air? It seems to want to think. by itself.” Her little 
soul saw and heard much in its quiet moods no doubt, 
which no one, not even her mamma, ever knew. 


STORY OP DAISY. 


93 


CHAPTER XV. 


The holidays of this year passed pleasantly with us. 
Christmas we were at home. The greetings which 
pass from lip to lip on these yearly occasions are alwa3^s 
sweet and grateful to the heart, and the mementos are 
precious, bearing love from one to another. Daisy was 
delighted with many beautiful presents as usual. 

The next day but one after Christmas she, her papa 
and I went up to the old home. We generally tried to be 
there sometime during the holidays. Near by was her 
uncle Leonard’s and aunt Nora’s — -a place where we were 
always warmly greeted. Her cousins Georgie and Charlie 
— -bright intelligent boys — always did everything to enter- 
tain her in a happy manner. This time their special 
pleasure was the building of a snow hut not far from the 
sitting-room door. It was a new and delightful enterprise 
for Daisy, she acting mostl}^ in the capacity of superinten- 
dent, the boys doing the necessary work. 

Looking into my journal of that date, I find the 
following: 

“It is now half past ten of the last night of eighteen 
sixty eight ! But a few more minutes and this year will 
be no more, save as it is bound up a full ripened sheaf and 
gathered into the harvest of time. Still eternity is the 
same — that remains. The years go by — go out — and we 
go on, and on, changing, and yet retaining all that is 
■essential of us, and to us; not gaining all we would, nor 
yet losing all. If our dearest loved ones are with us, the 
heart is full and rich, as is mine tonight, and fervent 
thanksgivings ascend for that sweetest of all blessings 


94 


STORY OF DAISY. 


that may come to life, that crowning j 03^ of all the passing 
years, to be a happy wife, and a happy mother, the loving 
circle still complete ! 

The day has been pleasant without and happy within. 
The children have been all gaiety and joyousness — their 
eyes as full of sparkle as the snow crystals beneath their 
feet, and their cheeks as rich with a healthful glow as the 
blue sky was bright and beautiful above them. They 
have spent the time as yesterday — coasting, snowballing 
and finishing their snow hut. Daisy says ‘the hut is for 
the old year to rest in as he totters on in his last lone 
journey!’ She ‘feels very sorry for the poor dying 
year — everybody seeming to forget that, and be so glad 
to have a new one come.’ 

She has entered into the joys and sports of the day 
with a heartiness equal, or more than equal, to that of 
the boys. 

But I hear the winds begin to roar and whistle at the 
window ‘a saucy sound,’ papa says; a wail of the dying 
year, say I, and sigh a good-by to dear old Eighteen 
Sixty-eight !” 

NEW year’s, 1869! 

My new Journal says: “A most furious storm has 
been raging since about midnight, but we braved it 
enough to come from ‘Uncle Leonard’s dowm to the old 
home.’ We came up ‘across the lot,’ where there is a 
driveway for convenience to workmen in summer, it being 
the nearest way to the house, and the snow being so deep 
to-day, and such a storm prevailing, no one had ventured 
out to make a ‘track’ in the road.” 

We found it impossible getting up that way, even, 
without all getting out of the sleigh, or being ‘‘tipped 
out!” Daisy was delighted to be out and wading in the 
deep snow, but it was not quite so easy a matter for me 
with my long skirts. So her papa, when he got the horse 


STORY OF DAISY. 


95 


and sleigh through, opening the way a little for us, re- 
turned and insisted on trying to carry me ! We struggled 
along — he did — until we both found ourselves down in 
the snow ! from laughing, as much as anything with 
Daisy , whose merriment knew no bounds at the ludicrous 
appearance of her papa and mamma ! She was behind 
us when we fell, but rushed on and purposely tumbled 
diown with us, and a wild melee there was with the snow 
and each other. Fortunately we were quite near the 
house, and finally got in, where the ‘ ‘ happy ’ ’ greetings 
were not a little enhanced and enlivened by our friends 
having witnessed our exploits just outside. 

Uncle Leonard’s family followed shortly after in our 
wake, finding it a little more comfortable than we, the 
pioneers. We were served to a “ royal dinner, ” after 
which there was music, games apd much fun for the 
children. 

Daisy thought she would like such a “New Years ’’ a 
good many times a year, especially the fun of battling 
the storm with her papa and mamma. ’ ’ 

When we reached home, found Ettie — the little girl 
in the house with us, “sick with the measles.” We felt 
like turning back as that was a disease we dreaded for 
our Daisy, yet concluded to try to flee from it, might not 
save her, and remained at home. 

I find the following, written several days after, in 
journal : 

“ East night as I was giving our Daisy a foot-bath, 
and she sat, dallying with the water she said — ‘mamma 
I do think the sound of water is beautiful. I love to 
hear it singing and laughing along over the pebbles and 
stones in summer. It really does laugh, mamma!’ 

“Hear it now’ — said she as she splashed her feet in 
it, making a light, rippling sound. ‘ I think mamma, its 
music is almost sweeter than the singing of birds 1 ’ I 


96 


STORY OF DAISY. 


often found her soul could translate sounds into music 
which many others might fail to hear.” 

As we apprehended, in due time, she ‘ ‘ came down 
with the measles! ” She was very sick for three or four 
days, but when she began to improve to our great joy, 
she recovered quite rapidly. We greatly rejoiced ever}" 
time a threatening enemy in the way of disease was left 
behind her in the journey of life. 

Journal again. 

“A severe storm last night — much rain falling and 
freezing as it fell. It is dangerous being out this morn- 
ing, but the trees are covered with a most brilliant enamel 
and look so beautiful in their gleaming diamonds and 
prismatic hues as the sun radiently smiles upon them in 
all his glory. Daisy is seated by a window feasting her 
eyes on the wondrous beauty spread out before her. She 
is still confined to her room, and was greatly worried dur- 
ing the storm because of her papa’s absence. Dast night 
a part of her pra5^er was, “Oh, God, I pray you, don’t 
let the cars run off the track with my dear papa ! ’ ’ The 
child knows no reason, why He should not heed a request 
of that kind, as well as grant any other special favor to 
either old or young!” 

Later in the winter I find this in journal: 

‘ ‘ Had a little discouraged feeling on account of my 
Daisy today. She has a strong nature, and a strong will, 
one that it is sometimes difficult to know just how to 
meet and direct.” I do not know to what I here refer, 
and merely quote it as a fact concerning one of her char- 
acteristics, and one that sometimes confronted me in a dis- 
turbing manner. She instinctively felt that children had 
rights, and was encouraged in that feeling by her papa 
and mamma who both believed in the same, and that 
their wishes (children’s) should be gratified often if not in 
strict accord with the desire of parents. I do not know, 


STORY OF DAISY. 


97 


however, that she ever really assumed a right to an in- 
dulgence in anything. The .strongest, desires, even, 
could generally be overcome by an appeal to her affect- 
tionate nature, which was supreme — and through that, her 
reason was open to see how much better to be guided by 
the greater wisdom which must generally come with the 
larger experience of her parents. At the time I wrote 
what I have quoted from journal I may have been more at 
fault than was my Daisy, — for just above it Isay, “Have 
been in a somewhat desponding mood to-day!” That 
mood was doubtless the sole occasion (though I knew it not 
then) for any want of harmony there may have been be- 
tween us. Very likely it is often the case, that parents 
are at fault instead of the children when they are at vari- 
ance with each other — their condition of mind from vari- 
ous disturbing causes entirely unfitting them to come in 
contact with the healthy exhuberent life of childhood. 

The following March word came — “kittle Carrie is 
very sick with lung fever. ’ ’ When I read the letter, with 
a cry of anguish Daisy exclaimed — r“The dear'little angel! 
Mamma, we can not let her die and go. from us. Poor 
Uncle George, Auht Dida and Cousin Willie!” Two 
days later, ‘ ‘ Carrie no better, ’ ’ then the next day came 
the sad message — “kittle Carrie is gone. ” 

Oh, how many joys were crushed, how many dear 
hopes blighted as the sweet little blossom bowed its beau- 
tiful head in death! What anguish in that home of love! 
an anguish that knows no equal solace — a darkness deep 
and overwhelming.” 


STORY OF DAISY. 


98 ' 


CHAPTER XVI. 


I have thus far had much aid from letters and jour- 
nals in recalling the past, but hereafter shall have to rely 
solely on memory, and that is much of it little home 
experiences similar to what is already recorded. Her 
friend Kitty and she were much together, when out of 
school, finding diversion and pleasure in rambling over 
our grounds, watching the plants as they crept up out of 
the earth, or the opening of leaf and bud. Often they 
went to some woods a short distance from us to gather . 
early wild flowers and mosses. They also spent much 
time and found great pleasure by the little brook often 
mentioned, a short distance from our house. Daisy was 
always delighted to watch a shallow stream creeping 
along over its sometimes grassy, and sometimes rough, 
rugged bed; thought it carved such beautiful figures over 
and around the differently shaped stones. Sometimes 
they would spend hours making tiny boats of paper boxes 
or pieces of board, and with much interest float them off 
on the water, fancying them their ships gone out to sea 
for treasure. 

A stick of some kind in her hand, or near her, seemed 
almost to be necessary to Daisy’s happiness from infancy, 
and she lost none of her love for it as she grew older. 
Always when she was walking, to the woods, by the 
brook, or on the yard, and often when riding, or when 
she went to bed even, the inevitable stick was her com- 
panion. Her papa Anally carved her a small beautiful 
one in fanciful shape for occasional enjoyment, and made 
her another perfectly smooth of cedar wood for dail}^ use. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


99 


which always stood by her bed at night. It grew to 
seem a precious scepter to us, having been so much fondled 
by the dear little hands of the darling sovereign of our 
hearts. 

As Daisy and I walked up town one evening, the last 
of May or first of June, we met several little girls, much 
dressed and in a seeming hurry on their way somewhere. 
We soon learned it was a “Festival.” We had not 
observed the notice of it in the papers, nor heard of it. 
She said but little as we walked along, but I thought I 
discerned a shade of sadness on her face. She would say 
nothing about going to the entertainment then, because 
she knew it was too late, and she did not want to com- 
plain, nor express any reproach because of not going. 
Just before bed time that evening, however, she handed 
me this little note : 

“Dear Mamma: — 

Two great tears rolled down my cheeks when I saw all 
the little girls were going to the festival. I haven’ t been to 
anything of the kind for a long time; and when I was 
getting over the measles, you and papa said ! should go 
to the first pleasant entertainment in town. I did not go 
to the party three or four weeks ago because it was so 
stormy — nor to the festival last week, for the same reason. 
Tonight it was so pleasant I could have gone. But 
excuse me for speaking about it. I thought you saw I 
felt bad, and I just wanted to say, I knew you did not 
know about this or you would have let me go. But I 
don’t care about it now mamma, so please don’t say any- 
thing to papa about it. 

Daisy.” 

The brave little girl had conquered her sadness and 
regret because of not being with the little girls at the 
Festival, and did not wish me to speak of her having had 
such feelings to her papa when he returned. She had a 
pride in not seeming weak, or being weak before him ; 
and would not be weak with me even, but all the feelings 


lOO 


STORY OF DAISY. 


or little trials of her heart, were, of course as they should 
be, revealed to her Mamma. Had we known of the en- 
tertainment in time she would have been gratified in 
going as we never denied her any pleasure from which 
we thought no harm could come. I find in a little diar}^ 
of hers dated June 24th, the following: “It is very 
pleasant to-day— such a clear blue sky, and delightful 
air — too pleasant to practice much, so I only practiced 
thirty minutes. Yesterday I wrote a letter to little Ada. 
She was very much pleased — said it was the first letter 
she ever had of her own. She should be sure and write 
her first letter to me, when she got old enough to write.” 

Again, June 29th : “ Yesterday it rained, to-day the 

sun shines out most beautifully ; the grass is fresh and 
green, and the dear flowers all wear sweet, clean faces. 
This forenoon I was out in the cherry-trees. . I had 
plenty of company too — so many birds, especially robins. 
They seemed to enjoy the cherries as much as I did. I 
was very glad to have them share with me. We have 
three large trees and all so nice and ripe. I am very 
fond of cherries, but like strawberries better. Made my 
dinner mostly on strawberries. ’ ’ 

The latter part of July our friends in Brooklyn — the 
Powers, came on and spent nearly two weeks with 
us, ■ During their visit we took a large double carriage 
and drove across the country to Perry, Silver Take, and 
Portage — places quite noted for their many attractions for 
visitors. As we went on, we stopped on the shore of the 
lake — a lovely sylvan spot, fitted up for picnicing, and 
partook of the lunch we had taken with us for that place. 

A sweet refreshing rest we had there in the shade, 
with the blue placid waters spread out before us, and 
listening to the soft murmur of the gently splashing 
wavelets breaking at our feet. Daisy wandered around 
the grove and down along the shore while we were rest- 


STORY OF DAISY. 


lOI 


ing, as it was her first visit there, and .she was charmed 
with the lovely romantic place. In the afternoon we 
went on to Portage. The country at first was very pic- 
turesque; as we advanced the road grew more hilly, and 
slow of ascent, and the nearer we approached the falls, 
the wilder and more rugged the appearance of nature. At 
Portage there is a succession of three beautiful falls of 
greater or lesser height, shut in by majestic native woods. 
There is not very great width of the river just at the 
falls, the great volume therefore moves rapidly with a 
rushing, roaring sound which blends harmoniously with 
the wild surroundings. Our Daisy drank in with won- 
dering joy the grandeur and beaut}^ around her — gazing 
long with delighted eyes at the mass of waters as they 
w^ent dashing, deaping and tumbling over the rocks and 
stones, joined here and there by a sparkling cascade, or a 
purling streamlet stealing down the steep sides of the 
heavy rocks. Often would she stop on the way down the 
steps leading to the bed of the river, and down the 
stream, to get new views, and also to. gather the wild 
flowers and mosses w^hich grow in such profusion about 
the moist stones, broken rocks and all over the fallen old 
trees which may have been sleeping there for hundreds of 
years. The whole scene and entire visit at Portage 
afforded her the greatest pleasure as she was always at 
home and in harmony with the native wildness and 
beauty of the outer world. We remained there only one 
night — a lovely moonlight night coming home at our 
leisure the next day. Our friends returned to Brooklyn 
the day after. 

About the middle of August Daisy’s aunt Mary and 
cousin Mattie, of Cincinnati, came on to spend a little 
time with us. A week after came her uncle Thomas (the 
husband and father, ) the only uncle she had left on her 
papa’s side. He was very fond of Daisy — loved her next 


102 


STORY OF DAISY. 


to his own Mattie. They remained three or four weeks 
with us, much to the gratification of the fun-loving in the 
nature of Daisy — her uncle’s ready wit, and great mimetic 
powers being a constant source of social pleasure. One 
other visitor, her uncle Dudley for a few^ days, was the 
last from out of town during the warm weather. This 
was the first and only time she ever saw this uncle. Her 
heart was immediately drawn toward him how^ever, because 
of his deep affliction, having just buried his wife. Her 
tender sympathies made for her a warm place in his deep 
affectional nature, and the interchange of sympathies and 
caresses afforded mutual comfort and gratification. 

I turn again to my darling’s little diary. Sept. 21st 
she writes: 

“It is a beautiful day ; I see the maple leaves begin to 
change a little. How I should like to be riding all day, 
especially on horseback. How lovely the sky is this after- 
noon, I love to look at it, so clear and bright with only a 
few white clouds sailing around like fairy boats. Last 
night when mamma and I were riding we saw the full 
moon low in the east, looking red as fire; we were just 
crossing a bridge and the moon shone on the water most 
beautifully. 

Today is papa’s birthday — invited Mr. and Mrs. K. and 
Jennie to dinner — they could not come — all very sorry. 
Tomorrow we shall go to the fair I guess. Oh ! I have 
the dearest little dog, only Fido! Fido and Fawny are 
the only dogs I ever loved, and those I love like children. ’ ’ 

She says still farther: 

“In reading this week I have learned about ‘Rural 
Life in England.’ I think it must be very beautiful 
there, but I think it is very wrong though, the poor have 
to work so hard for so little pay.’’ 

She did go to the fair as she “guessed’’ and hoped she 
might, and greatly enjoyed her ride of ten miles there, 
and much that was on exhibition. But what gave her 
special delight was witnessing the races in the afternoon ; 


STORY OF DAISY. IO3 

she looked as though she would like to be flying around 
the track with the horses. 

When we reached home that evening her little dog 
manifested the greatest pleasure at her return, and she 
was equally overjoyed to meet her pet. She not only 
took him on her lap and fondled and talked most lovingly 
to him, but she cried over him. Turning to me, at the 
same time, she said — -“Oh, mamma, to think this dear 
little thing is mine ! To have a live little thing that I can 
call my own! Oh, mamma, it makes me so happy! 

She voiced in that expression a natural feeling of the 
human heart, a love of possession, a desire to claim as our 
own that which is specially dear to us. I think perhaps 
an only child, with a very loving nature, deprived of the 
pleasure of saying, ‘ ‘ My brother, “ “ My sister, ’ ’ though 
always longing for such dear relationship, may feel more 
keenly the real joy possible in having a “live” pet all its 
own than others might. 

Late this fall to our utter dismay we found our darling 
in the clutches of that dread disease, scarlet fever. She 
was very ill, but after many most trying days came the 
promise, and Anally a full restoration to health. Another 
adversary in the way of her growth to womanhood had 
been vanquished. After the fear, the onslaught and the 
victory, came the triumphal gratitude. As she grew 
strong enough she was afforded inflnite fun and amuse- 
ment by my reading the ‘ ‘Adventures of Don Quixote. ’ ’ 
Sancho’s drollery,, simple, unaffected credulty, and his 
physical delectabilities were quite as entertaining to her 
as his master’s unrivaled philanthropic chivalry. 

We had one of Dore’sflnely illustrated copies, and she 
studied the pictures with the greatest delight. .One I re- 
member was particularly laughable to her — where Sancho 
lay sleeping, and above him in a halo of faintly beaming 
stars, - were kettles, saucepans, grid-irons, legs of mutton, 


104 STORY OF DAISY. 

pudding, etc., etc., a vision of superlative joys to him 
even in sleep. That she designated “Sancho’s Heaven.” 

Many others were most amusing, and all helped to 
deepen the impression made upon her by the reading. 
That year she expressed a desire to have a Christmas 
tree — she wished it hers, however, only in the sense of 
filling it herself ! Her papa told her she should have the 
prettiest one to be found. Then eager little hands guided 
by the haopy little heart, were busy early and late, with 
the assistance of her friend Kitty, until the beautiful 
tree, festooned and adorned with bright little gifts for the 
dollies, little friends, cousins, teacher and papa and 
mamma was made still more beautiful — “the loveliest 
tree” she ever beheld! She was thus the happiest of lit- 
tle girls — far more so, than as though all had been done 
for her! “Never, never, was I so happy with a tree in 
all my life, mamma,” she said. How ever fresh and 
beautiful the kindly feelings awakened at the return of 
the dear Christmas time ! Self is forgotten in the over- 
flow of good will, loving deeds and kindly wishes for 
others. May the dear children everywhere, early learn 
that sweetest joy is often found in giving joy to others, 
that in ministering to other’s needs and pleasures, brings 
truer happiness than in being ministered unto ! 


STORY OF DAISY. 


105 


CHAPTER XVII. 


I have often very much regretted, now more than 
ever, that I kept no journal at this time. I go back in 
memory and recall many events connected with my dar- 
ling, but her sweet thoughts — her oft-times wise beauti- 
ful expressions are all gone from me. I know we often 
sat together in our large arm-chair — large enough to hold 
us both, when she was partly in my lap, as she usually 
was, and had our loving, quiet talks as we watched by a 
western window the going out of day, and the coming on 
of twilight with its deepening shades, and the world blos- 
soms as they brightly unfolded on the velvet robe of 
night. I had taught her the names of some of the prin- 
cipal stars, and traced many of the constellations with 
her — a work in which she was always greatly interested. 
I found a little scrap of paper a few days ago where she 
had written, “mamma I do love to have such long quiet 
talks with you, but when I cannot talk with you, I talk 
with myself about the heavens and the beautiful things I 
see on the earth.” 

In her little diary of this time I find the following ; 
“I will write down here, the title of my next composi- 
tion — it is to be Snow. I think it will be a handy thing 
to write about, there is so much of it. I think it must 
love me too, for it sometimes runs up my arms, creeps in 
around my neck, and gets all over my face, especially 
when I fall into its arms ; and then it will cling to my 
clothes anywhere it can get a chance, and finally run 
away in tears when it has to leave me if I come near the 
fire!” 


io6 


STORY OF DAISY. 


If the snow loved her as she imagined, the regard was 
very mutual ; for she delighted to be out in it — play in 
it — ride over it ; and she loved to watch it floating down 
gently and gracefully through the air — each beautiful 
crystal seeming delirious with joy, as it sometimes does; 
but loved better if possible, to see it shooting fierce and 
furious down from the sky each little flake madly intent 
on beating all the others in the race ; then the wdld 
hustle they sometimes had with the wind, rushing hither 
and thither in greatest ‘Confusion and finally nestling 
themselves together in smooth beautiful scroll-like waves 
and curves. It seemed very wonderful that just the 
wind and snow playing together could make such beau- 
tiful things. She thought the evergreens must have a 
great friendliness for snow too, as they fondly nursed in 
among their thick protecting leaves all they could catch 
of the feathery floating mass. 

One day as she sat looking out of the window — she 
called quickly, “Oh, mamma, do come and see what fun 
the evergreens are having, snow-balling each other!” 
Standing in close proximity, their full branches being 
tossed back and forth by a brisk breeze, the snow they 
held went pitching in balls, or patches, from one tree to 
the other, and she invested them with human life, enjoy- 
the sport ! 

In her little school the teacher sometimes exercised 
her pupils in this manner: — she would name a subject, and 
each child was to write on the instant what thought 
occurred to it on the same. 

Five minutes at most was the time generally allowed 
them for the purpose. The following was one such exer- 
cise by Daisy: 

THF WIND. 

“I love the wind. How good it is to come on a hot, 
sultry night, in such a downy little breeze and gently 


STORY OF DAISY. 


107 

blow away the bad thoughts that gather in our minds on 
long tiresome days. I love to see it playing with the 
flowers, and leaves on the trees, then running off to the 
woods where it can have such a wild frolic, and make 
such a roaring sound. We find it will creep around 
almost anywhere in winter. ’ ’ 

About this time, though date is not stated, she must 
have written the following : 

A FAIRY STORY. 

‘ ‘ As I was walking in the garden one day I saw the 
dearest little fairy in a lily dressing itself. And I saw in a 
white Moss-Rose near by, two other fairies dancing to- 
gether, and many more of them looking on. In another 
flower — (it was a weed) — I saw an old ‘Guinea Witch’ 
muttering and puttering to herself because her mate did 
not come. In a marigold were the king and queen of the 
fairies very richly dressed. 

Two of the beautifulest I ever saw were in the forget- 
me-not. One was dressed in wRite velvet, the other in 
blue velvet; and they both had gold spangles all over 
their dresses. They were going to a wedding. 

After some time elapsed, I suppose, from what she 
says, she continues. 

Since I wrote thus far I have been to the woods, and 
what do you think I saw therei? It was a lovely large 
crimson rose leaf spread in a little moss grove, and all 
the fairies I saw in the garden were there. Not one of 
them had happened to call the other by name before, but 
now they were talking to each other, and I heard some of 
their names — Bell, Dora, Pearl, Romeo, Juliet and so on. 
The two that were dancing in the white rose in the gar- 
den were lovers. I saw them kiss each other. When I 
saw them again in the grove they were riding on horse- 
back. Their horses had wings and were very beautiful. 
Some others were dancing again to the music of a harp, 
which seemed to be played up in a tree. I saw not far 
from them some little elfs, who were going after a violet 
leaf. I wondered at first what they were going to do with 
it, but I soon found out. They came back with a piece 


io8 


STORY OF DAISY. 


of one, and laid it down on the rose leaf, and began 
arranging things that looked like very small dew drops, 
but I soon saw they were bringing pearl and diamond 
dishes — they were going to have supper. ’ ’ 

The little story stops here. She evidently intended 
writing more, but like the fairy life often of childhood — 
the end came too soon, just as the beautiful beginning was 
unfolding into richer, fairer promise! 


STORY OF DAISY. 


109- 


CHAPTER XVill. 


I have often spoken of my darling’s love for our home,, 
and I now recall one evening in the early spring ^of ’70, a 
somewhat unusual experience in connection with it. She 
came into the house after she had been wandering around 
by herself sometime, and said: “Mamma, I do want you 
to come out with me and see how perfectly lovely it is on 
the yard.” I of course went, always but too glad to 
gratify any heart-wish of hers. She took me to the 
highest point, near the arbor and said, “now mamma just 
look all around, and see how perfectly beautiful it is ! the 
winding walks, the clumps of evergreens — that little nook 
off there where Kitty, Ada and I have played so often — 
the lovely maples bordering the carriage-way, the smooth 
lawn sloping down to the large old elm — the little orchard 
and meadow, and all the nice trees and shrubs every- 
where. Mamma, don’t you think this is the loveliest 
spot in the world ? I do ! And when I am out here all 
by myself, or only Fawny with me, I sometimes feel as 
though I never want to go in ; and when you call me 
because it is getting late, or you fear I will take cold, I 
hardly ever go in without cr^dng because I have to go 
away from so much beauty.” We remained a long time 
talking and enjoying the quiet of the hour — I could not 
bear to disturb the .sweet happiness that was hers, until 
the chill and dampness of the evening made it necessary. 
And when we finally went toward the door, she said, 

‘ ‘mamma, no one can ever know how much I love this 
place — I love it so, I could even kiss the old brown part 
of the house.” 


I lO 


STORY OF DAISY. 


I realized then, as never before, the depth and sacred- 
ness of her attachment to the home that had been hers 
the longest so far in life, and indeed the most pleasant 
one, and said to her, “darling this home shall be yours 
just as long as you want it — you need never fear any 
more that it will be sold. ’ ’ ‘ ‘Oh ! mamma, ’ ’ she exclaimed, 
her eyes filling with tears, and a feeling too deep for 
farther utterance welling up in her precious heart, as she 
realized the happiness of such a, to her glad, "“blessed 
promise. 

That spring we read together “Eminent Women,’' 
she, sometimes reading to me, then I to her. She was 
much interested in the history of all, but more particu- 
larly in Harriet Hosmer, Anna Dickinson and Grace 
Greenwood. She had ‘ ‘ long been acquainted with Grace, ’ ’ 
as she expressed it, liked very much to read her stories, 
and there was one poem of her’s which particularly 
pleased her, “The Horseback Ride.’’ 

Her regard for Grace was deepened, I have no doubt, 
because of her fondness for horses. It may have been 
vain in me, but I sometimes had a fancy that our darling 
had characteristics somewhat resembling Grace — some of 
her dash and strength, and the wildness she had in youth. 

As the spring advanced and summer came on with leaf 
and bud and blossom, our Daisy walked apace wdth it, — 
her eyes, her heart and hands were full. She and Kitty 
were much together — away to the woods, gathering wild 
flowers there, and through the fields which they passed, 
the buttercups and daisies. They had one very long 
pleasant walk that spring, a description of which was one 
of her compositions for school. Toward evening, very 
frequently, the two sauntered up and down the sidewalk, 
down to the little brook, or a little further on, to a pleas- 
ant seat where the}^ often whiled away the sunset hour, 
with girlish talk of their plans, wishes, and dreams of the 


STORY OF DAISY. 


1 1 r 


future, I presume. But Daisy was never so absorbed but 
that if there was a particularly beautiful sunset or after- 
glow, she would hasten home for her papa and mamma to 
see it, her own enjoyment could hardl}^ be perfect unless 
she was sure we had a share in the source of it. 

There were two or three occasions earl}^ in that sum- 
mer, which were golden epochs in her life. One was a 
rainbow late in the afternoon, after a much needed re- 
freshing shower. It was the most beautiful one I ever 
saw, or else I looked upon it through some of her enkind- 
ling enthusiasm. It .was a perfect arch, each color dis- 
tinct and bright, yet beautifully blended, and underneath 
it the freshly robed trees and shrubs and green earth, 
still wet, were all hung with glittering diamonds. There 
was more splendor and brilliancy spread out before us 
than I ever saw at any one time before. She thought it 
more than equalled any fairyland imaginable. The oth- 
ers were also scenes connected with rain. One was a 
peculiar state of the atmosphere just after a shower, 
which gave it the appearance of being literally filled with 
sifted gold ! and everything in nature seen through it 
wore the same soft filmy sheen. Even her papa had 
never seen anything like it before, and called us to come 
quickly and see, as it could be of but short duration. We 
hastened to the window and looked out in speechless ad- 
miration upon the wonderful scene. Her papa propheti- 
cally remarked as he held us near him, “we may never 
all together behold another such a marvelously beautiful 
sight.” The other was this — we were all sitting by the 
window during a shower, when the clouds passed off 
from the sun, while still raining with us, and the sun 
being opposite as we looked up toward it, the large drops 
lighted by its rays became a shower of diamonds. A 
brilliant display occasionally having been witnessed b}^ 
most people, I doubt not ; but to our little girl, the last 


I 12 


STORY OF DAISY. 


two phenomena were new experiences, and awakened in 
her unbounded admiration. She always enjoyed a thun- 
derstorm — a rare thing for a child, I think. The deep 
sonorous sounds journeying around the heavens were to 
her “so grand” she “couldn’t be afraid,” she said. 

Often in the early evening when she was in bed there 
would be a grand display of electricity. She would then 
want the light extinguished and the blinds thrown open. 
The windows opposite where she lay, opened to the west, 
and through that she could watch the lightning leap and 
play among the often very dense black clouds gathered 
near the horizon. These she called “sky-mountains,” 
and by the light darting in and out around them she 
could “see such huge caves open up way in among them, ’ ’ 
she said. The clouds, were always, to use her own ex- 
pression, “a favorite study” with her. She would 
watch them with the most rapt attention when there were 
a great many with var3dng shades of colbr, constantly 
changing'form, and rapidly moving about “ chasing each 
other around the heavens as though on a race.” And 
then again how gracefully and majestically a large fleet 
of' ships as it seemed to her would sail away as though 
on a voyage to other worlds. She sometimes imagined 
she saw the forms of little children in them ‘ ‘ they might 
be angels.” 


STORY OF DAISY. 


II3 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Early in the summer of ’ 70 her Aunt Lottie returned 
from quite a lengthy visit in the West. She thought 
Daisy ‘ ‘ looked much thinner and fairer ; ’ ’ else she wore a 
pallor which did not formerly belong to her. To us who 
were constantly with her it had not been perceptible. 
Her 'auntie also seemed to think she had greatly matured 
since she left and feared she was developing too rapidly, 
but yet she was very ambitious for her, more so even than 
her parents. She had always been anxious to aid her all 
she could, and was very sensitive to all the little trials 
and deprivations to which she might in any way be sub- 
jected. She told me not long after she returned, how 
tried she was one day when with us, as Daisy after an 
absence of sometime with her dog Fawny, came into the 
house looking tired, and with traces of tears on her face. 
She said to her, — “Daisy, what is the matter? The dear 
child, she said, ‘ ‘looked up almost reproachfully, and merely 
sighed,” “Oh, Auntie! how can you ask?” Her auntie 
thought she must have felt “so lonely” then, an expres- 
sion Daisy often used, and needed some change, some- 
thing fuller and happier in a social way to help fill up the 
many long “lonely” days that must come to her. 

Her auntie felt, and often said, that one great want of 
her nature was constant, intimate child company, and hav- 
ing none in the home, she needed all possible adven- 
titious aids to fill up life. She had many pleasing sur- 
prises in contemplation for her during the year. We also, 
planned more largely for her in certain directions. Our 
desires in connection with her advantages and enjoyments 


114 


STORY OF DAISY. 


were always in advance of our abilit}^ to perform. Yet 
there was never the least intimation on her part, but that 
everything was done that could be; if not, she knew the 
reason why and rather than complain, would seem more 
than satisfied. Aside from all outward circumstances, 
that she, with her keen susceptibilities, as she grew older, 
had many lonely hours, and longings unattained and un- 
expressed, I have no doubt. There always seemed to be an 
undertone of sadness in her nature — a minor key more 
quickly responsive to the lightest touch, than any other 
in her soul, and with it, that impulse or tendency in 
strong natures, to bear or wrestle alone, or to seek 
sympathy, if at all, with dumb creatures or inanimate 
things. She told me sometime previous to this, that 
when she felt bad, or sad I suppose she meant, she “some- 
times went out and told Flora and Gyp, (the mother and 
colt) or else she told her little dog Fawny, they all seemed 
to listen so kindly and would look so sympathetic. ’ ’ I doubt 
not her Fawnj^ had been the recipient of a great many 
little heart-trials during that qfternoon, to which her 
auntie referred. A sad fate I have always felt, is that of 
an only child ! To the child, the loss of home companion- 
ship — the sympathy and discipline which come with daily 
contact with children ; and to the parents, the constant 
anxiety — the concentration of all hope, happiness and love 
in one — and then the one great loss ! the utter void, the 
wreck of heart and home, when death calls for the one!! 

During the extreme warm weather of that summer our 
darling did not seem very vigorous — not as well as usual, 
although through excitement she could endure a 
great deal of play. Most of the time, however, she seemed 
more quiet — read a great deal by herself; she would take her 
book out into the old apple tree or arbor and spend hours 
there all alone. One day I remember she got up on top 
of the arbor ! It was so formed that she could easily find 


STORY OF DAISY. 


II5 

a place for a reclining position and there with her book, 
and an umbrella over her, she seemed particular!}’ de- 
lighted ; it was something new if not better, and she was 
fond of experimenting. She was not entirely satisfied, 
however, until she sent little Ada in to “ask mamma to 
come out.” She wanted to see my astonishment at find- 
ing her in such an unusual place, and my approval also 
was necessary to her perfect enjoyment. 

One very warm morning not long after she delighted 
herself by getting up what she called an “impromptu 
picnic. ’ ’ 

She quietly took some chairs out into the cool deep 
shade of one of her favorite resorts — one of her “nooks,” 
and then invited her papa and me out to see how pleasant 
it was. We found it ver}’ attractive and to her great 
gratification, set about helping her make it more comfort- 
able by spreading a robe on the ground, getting pillows, 
books and everything necessary for entertainment and 
enjoyment. We spent the forenoon most pleasantly, and 
finally had our lunch there, she bringing little Ada over 
to share it with us. Fawny, of course, was one of 
the number, and to complete her happiness, Zep, the colt, 
who had been turned out for a play, came around where 
we were. “The whole family are here now!” said she in 
great glee. “Yes, daughty,” replied her papa, “and per- 
haps my darling we shall never see or know a happier day 
than this.” We assuredly never have ! 

Early in August she went up to Pavilion to spend 
some time. In two or three w^eeks, greatly to our delight, 
she returned much improved in appearance, aiid with a 
strong desire to commence’school at the academy with the 
opening of its fall terili. It had been a matter of much 
thought and consultation whether it was wise for her to 
attempt going there to school again, as she had twice 
failed with an experiment of about tw^o weeks each time. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


I l6 

We knew if her health was now sufficiently robust that 
the best thing we could do for her, was to have her in- 
structed under the supervivsion of our friend Mr. R. He, 
with his great genius seemed to us better prepared to 
thoroughly educate and wisely direct children than any 
person we had ever met. We hoped also, that going regu- 
larly to school might establish a better habit and condition 
of mind — that a special duty before her might in some de- 
gree prove an antidote for some of her present uneasy, ner- 
vous hours. And we perceived we thought, after she had 
been attending school three or four weeks, a change for 
the better. She enjoyed the school in every respect — was 
out at three in the afternoon, and in the forenoon had two 
or three recesses, so there was no long confinement at any 
time. 

Saturdays there was no school, and at home there was 
no restraint, so she luxuriated in freedom, fun and care- 
less ease. One very rainy Saturday she had been unable 
to get out at all, and her papa being absent, still engaged 
in his “ Reformatory Work,” she felt that she had “had 
no fun !” and she could hardly let a whole Saturday pass 
in that way. So just at twilight she said, “Mamma, may 
I put on papa’s old coat and cap and boots and go out?” 
Yes, I replied, well knowing nothing could be more grati- 
fying to her at such a time than to go out in such a plight 
as that. So after she had donned the coat, which was 
long enough to come down and almost cover up her big 
boots, she wadded up her long curls in a cap and started. 
Mrs. W. and her children — little Ada and Flossie, had the 
first call. She did not tr}’ to deceive them as to her iden- 
tity, but had a gay time for a few minutes, then started 
for Kitty’s home — she living across the street with her 
aunty and aged grandpa. Kitty said she recognized her 
instantly by the ring on her finger ; but her grandpa did 
not, so Daisy asked him in a most supplicating manner if 


STORY OF DAISY. 


II7 


she could “stay all night,” .said “it was getting dark and 
she had been traveling in the rain.” “Oh, yes, my lad,” 
said he, “I never turn any one away on such a night as 
this.” He told her to “sit by the fire and dry and 
warm, and he would have some supper prepared for him.” 
She talked to him some time, and still he did not recog- 
nize hei;; but when he wanted her to lay aside her cap! 
(which she had been impolite enough to retain!) she and 
Kitt}^ became so much amused that they could no longer 
restrain their laughter, and she revealed herself, quite to 
the old gentleman’s astonishment. A good hearty laugh 
was the result of the discovery, and after a few minutes 
chat with Kitty she came home light hearted and gay, 
having wrought out a bright happy ending to the long 
dreary day. She and Kitty had often, as most little girls 
like to do, I suppose, dressed themselves in different char- 
acters, and gone out in the neighborhood, sometimes as 
ladies, and sometimes as servants seeking work. One day 
Daisy dressed herself as mamma, and Kitty as a young 
girl, and coming down to the parlor where I was sitting, 
she assumed the importance and all the dignity of a 
mother, and introduced Kitty as “My daughter, just from 
boarding sahool. ’ ’ I met and treated her in character as 
she appeared, and had quite a long conversation about 
schools, and different studies, etc., she observing all the 
proprieties and sustaining a stately manner throughout. 
When I spoke to Kitty as her daughter, she could not 
refrain from smiling, when Daisy turned to her with a 
gently reproving look, and said, “Kitty, dear, I hope you 
will answer the lady’s question.” She was the real 
mother to the close, even the graceful leave-taking which 
•ended the ceremonious call. t 

One reason I suppose why little girls delight in seeing 
themselves in long dresses is because they see in it the 


ii8 


STORY OF DAISY. 


promise of more than they are — the putting on of real 
womanhood. All, I think, whether old or young, al- 
though not always conscious of it, are eager to seize that 
which is a little in advance of them — something to which 
they have not yet attained, as yielding something more 
and better than what they have. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


II9 


CHAPTER XX. 


The first of the following October Daisy’s papa went 
to Cincinnati to attend the “ National Congress on Prison 
Discipline” — a reform to which he had devoted much 
time for the past two or three years. During his absence 
on a Friday afternoon after close of school she and I went 
to the old home in P. to remain over until Monday morn- 
ing. The evening after we reached there we witnessed 
one of the most remarkable and brilliant exhibitions of 
Aurora Borealis it was ever my fortune to see. 

My Daisy watched it in a state of delightful interest 
and excitement the whole evening — even until eleven 
o’clock, and then went into the house with the greatest 
reluctance, feeling it was hard to be obliged to close her 
■eyes upon such a wonderful heaven. She had never had 
an opportunity of witnessing such a marvelous phenome- 
non before, and it made for her another indescribably 
beautiful world. The next day was one of the lovely 
autumn days, whose gentle, all-pervading influence is so 
exquisitly soothing, and beautiful that it takes entire 
possession of the soul. A delicious sense of quiet, and a 
dreamy forgetfulness of all but the tender emotions 
awakened by the soft enchanting scene comes to one, and 
one is lost in the day; that only seems to live. From 
morning until night my darling and I passed the never- 
to-be-forgotten hours almost solely by ourselves. We 
walked down the path across the field, where I used to 
go when a child, and to the brook where I had wandered 
up and down under the willows and tried to catch the 
tiny fish, and where she also had been when a little child 


120 


STORY OF DAISY. 


with her pin fish-hook and string and ‘ ‘ plaj^ed catch 
fish!” 

And we wandered on to a little piece of woods car- 
peted with beautiful fallen leaves ; looking for mosses and 
nuts, watching the chipper squirrels as they nimbi}’ 
sprang from tree to tree, and ran or jumped along on the 
ground, or on the fence, in their frolicsome sports, and 
listened to the wierd sounds of the sighing winds among 
the trees .so soon to be robbed of their bright robes, and 
left shivering in the desolation of winter. We could 
hardly think of winter then, but the soughing zephyrs 
stealthily whispered it in our ears. We strolled about as 
fancy led us until weary, then seated ourselves to rest, 
and enjoy the deep quiet, and wasting, fading beauty all 
around us. As we wandered back, we went up a hill just 
above the house — the highest place near there, and had a 
most lovely view. We could look westward down into 
the valley, where seemingly slept the little village, 
and on to the hills beyond so Avonderfully rich and beau- 
tiful in their variegated hues. To the north and south of 
us at a little distance, were elevations of woodland — the 
maple and beach blazing with their bright tints, yet soft- 
ly-veiled with the sleepy delicious haze which enveloped 
all. A long time we remained there, fascinated with the 
lovely scene before us. Then slowly we wended our way 
down into the old orchard freighted with the ripe and 
ripening fruit, up through that to the front lawn, and 
there seated ourselves in the same old swing where we 
had held many a little talk in the pleasant shade. There 
we sat a long time, in that subdued, quiet state which 
the long ramble, the soft surroundings, the air, and the 
day induced, when my darling reaching her arms up 
around my neck and kissing me said — “ oh, mamma ! I 
can never tell you how much I have enjoyed this day ! 
To have it so all to ourselves and you to have no care 


STORY OF DAISY. 


I2I 


about anything — and do nothing only wander around and 
talk, and be with me! ” 

The next day was pleasant and much enjoyed by us, 
with Uncle Richmond and Aunt lyOttie, and the drive in 
the evening to our home in U. , brought to a close one of 
the never-to-be-forgotten occasions of our life. 

Monday morning found our Daisy ready and eager for 
school. About this time she wrote and read a description 
of the walk I have mentioned, she and Kitty taking quite 
early in the spring, as a composition ! The title she gave 
it, was: 

A CHARMING WALK. 

"‘Near where I live there is a pretty little brook, and 
my friend Kitty and I are very fond of playing around it. 
One day last spring when the snow had all disappeared, 
although the fields were still wet and muddy, we thought 
we would take a walk and see where the brook started — 
find its baby-home if it was not too far away. So in the 
pleasant afternoon we took our way to the fields on our 
search. We had some boats — they were of our own 
make, and rather funny looking ! but they answered our 
purpose just as well. We also had some long poles to 
guide them in the water; but we had to carry our boats 
and poles too when we started, we were going up stream. 
The first thing we noticed as we passed on, was, that the 
brook was broader, and that it was covered with sand and 
pebbles in the bottom, instead of the little green grass we 
sometimes see in it near our home. Then in a little way it 
grew deeper and broader again and a bush had grown up 
out of it and a log had floated down and caught in the roots 
of the bush and made a very pretty little water-fall. We 
named it the Pearl fall, and stopped there a little while to 
rest. We found in some places the low ground so wet we 
had to leave the stream and go out around it. Then we had 
to climb over a fence, and at a little distance the stream 
was narrower still, with a little bit of a fall, which we 
called the Mimic fall. On a little farther we went over 
another fence where there were a great many large 
stones over which the water went tumbling quite furi- 


6— S D 


122 


STORY OF DAISY. 


ously; this place we named the Rocky falls. We got 
along so slowly, we had but little time to stop at our 
stations. We could see where the stream wound around 
through another quite large field and followed along some 
distance, when we stopped to rest and named the place 
Golden Rapids, there was so much soft yellow grass in the 
bed of the stream. By these rapids there were two large 
beautiful elm trees, and we thought it would be a delight- 
ful place to visit later, when there was shade, and sweet 
singing birds, and the fields were dry and covered with 
fresh green grass* As yet everything was dead or 
asleep, save the glad running brook, the cool winds, and 
the playful sun beams dancing on the water. We 
fancied, though, that already the young grasses began to 
tickle each other in their winter bed as they tried to 
straighten out, and push their little heads up into the 
light. We looked longingly up the stream, but saw no 
evidence of being near its source, so we decided we should 
have to leave its d.scovery to some other travelers, or to try 
again some other day ourselves. On the way back we 
had a good deal of fun with our boats: Over the Rocky 
Falls they met with serious damage, and we had to take 
them out and mend them. 

“They floated along with the assistance of our poles 
very nicely, over the smooth shallow places, but when 
they came to the next fall, they sunk to the bottom ! We 
pulled them out and pushed them on again until they 
came to Pearl falls ; there they became so badly injured they 
were beyond mending, and we had to carry them the rest 
of the way home. But we did not care if our boats were 
spoiled, or if we had not found the source of our little 
brook, we were sure we had had a nice time getting 
acquainted with its winding ways, and learning how it 
sported itself when way off in the fields all by itself. 

Some time we hope to go farther and learn more, but 
we may not find any greater enjoyment. I know in try- 
ing to describe this walk I have not been able to make any 
one understand how much real fun and pleasure we found 
that day. 


Daisy.” 


STORY OF DAISY. 


123 


The academy was quite a distance from our home and 
we began to fear the walk back and forth was too much 
for our darling, and she would be obliged to walk when 
her papa was absent. As he had learned he would be 
obliged to be away a great deal of the winter, we had much 
consultation about the best arrangements that could be 
made for the comfort of Daisy and myself during that time. 

We were quite undecided how to settle the matter, 
until one very stormy morning, when her papa returned 
from taking our darling to school and finding it so dis- 
agreeable for her, beside the exposure, came in saying he 
had concluded the wisest and best thing for us to do was 
to go up and board with Mrs. K. again for the winter. I 
quite agreed with him; ^and still there was a reluctance, 
a drawing back with us both at the prospect of really 
breaking up our home! Yet, through the inspiration and 
foreboding of that stormy morning we engaged rooms and 
board that day. Daisy seemed pleased when we told her 
on her return from school what we had done ; yet there 
was not that hearty demonstration in reference to it 
which it was her nature to give when there was a perfect 
accordance with her wishes. There was one evident rea- 
son why the change would not entirely suit her feelings, 
and there may have been others not apparent to us, and 
some perhaps not distinctly formulated in her own mind. 
But the one most important was the impossibility of tak- 
ing her dog Fawny with us; and next, not knowing just 
what was to be done with the other pet — Zep, the colt ! 
But we had decided to go, trusting some comfortable 
arrangement could be made for them. 

The evening of November 7th, therefore, found us at 
Mrs. K.’s for our first meal. While putting our room in 
order that day, I said to Mrs. K., “this change is all for 
the sake of the little girl; it will be so much pleasanter 
socially for her, and so much more convenient for school. ’ ’ 


124 


STORY OF DAISY. 


The first evening we were there, dear Jennie sang for 
us, “sang most divinely,” as remarked her papa to 
Daisy. The first selection was. “Oh, Ye Tears! Oh, Ye 
Tears!” 

The words and the manner in which they fell upon 
the ear, touched the heart, and filled the eyes instantly. 

It conies to me now, as having been prophetic, prelud- 
ing the overwhelming flood of tears which was to deluge 
that home ere the winter was gone! I could but watch 
my darling as she stood resting against the piano beside 
Jennie, listening with such a deep absorbed look, and in- 
tense feeling. She remained some time in that position, 
but finally withdrew to the farther dark corner of the 
room by herself, a very unusual thing for her to do, when 
her papa and mamma were with her. 

I have wondered since, if her little heart was too full 
to remain in the light, and near the company ; or if such 
thought is only a reflex of my own feelings cast upon her. 

I have wondered also, if she really was, during the latter 
part of the summer and autumn, as she seemed to me to 
be, much of the time, more sadly quiet, and thoughtful 
than was her wont. As I look back, I can think of no- 
thing in connection with her appearance, but the stillness 
of the birds just before their departure from here to 
another clime — a .summer home ! But that also, may be 
only the shadow which I myself reflect upon her and the 
season. 

From whatever cause, the air of that time in connec- 
tion with my darling seems to my memory, to wear a 
brooding mystery — a prophetic silence ! 

We were quite at home in the cheerful rooms we had 
occupied before, and> apparently a pleasant winter was 
before us. 

Every evening, or after school Daisy and I had a 
walk, often going to our home to take food to Fawny — 


STORY OF DAISY. 


125 


look after Zep, and ‘ ‘ call on the neighbors. ’ ’ Daisy 
missed the companionship of Kitty and Ada, and it- was 
very hard for her to have Fawny remain there alone. 
She would fondle him a long -time, and always leave in 
tears, when we started to go back up town. But in a 
short time her loving heart was relieved as he was taken 
up to P. to her cousins, Uncle and Auntie C. she always 
called them, to spend the winter, she was entirely satisfied 
when she knew he could go there — “ they would be so 
kind to him,” and it was “such a pleasant place” — a 
place where she always enjoyed visiting, and where she 
hoped to go often during the winter. Zep also was taken 
to P. to be cared for until spring. She seemed most 
happily relieved when the ‘ ‘ rest of the family were set- 
tled for the winter. ’ ’ 

The Sunday following our removal was the Thir- 
teenth — our darling’s thirteenth birthday ! Mrs. K. 
kindly made it a memorable occasion by pleasant sur- 
prises. Her papa came home the night before, and such 
a greeting ! How she bounded out of our room, when 
she heard his voice in the hall below — reachitjg down 
over the banisters and grasping around his neck saying, 

‘ ‘ I shall have the first kiss this time ! ’ ’ He always had 
a like welcome, only the fear, the doubt about his being 
with us the next day, intensified a little perhaps, the 
demonstration of her eager heart when she found he had 
really come. 

Jennie’s “affianced” was the only guest invited to 
partake with us the choice dinner prepared by Mrs. K. 
He was very pleasant, and kindly ordered his ponies and 
phaeton to the door shortly after, that Jennie might give 
Dai.sy a drive. They had a delightful ride of six or seven 
miles — the weather being very mild and the roads exceed- 
ingly fine. 


126 


STORY OF DAISY. 


The evening was a happy, never-to-be-forgotten one 
by the “Papa,” “mamma,” and darling child. How 
gladly we hailed the first gleam of the dawn of young 
womanhood resting upon her precious head, hoping it 
might brighten into the full lovely day, so hopefully 
promising to our idolizing love! 


STORY OF DAISY. 


127 


CHAPTER XXI. 


The following week I met my darling one day on her 
return from school, and proposed that she go in and sit 
for a “photo.” that we might happily surprise her papa 
by sending him one. She had two impressions taken, 
but neither was satisfactory ; they proved, however, to be 
very dear to us in aftertime. 

There was a course of lectures in town that winter, 
and her Uncle Richmond kindly presented us with “sea- 
son tickets.” Daisy was to attend but two or three, as 
we did not wish her to be out so late evenings as would 
be necessary, neither did we wish her to have the excite- 
ment and mental stimulus which must result from her 
attendance after she had been in school during the day. 
She went to but one. We were in the hall some time 
before the speaker came — had seats with her Cousin Fred 
and Miss R. Fred and Daisy kept up a lively conversa- 
tion, Miss R. observing them closely. On her way home 
she remarked to Fred, as she has since told me, that she 
thought ‘ ‘ Daisy was developing into a very brilliant 
girl.” We had a most remarkable fall that year, soft, 
beautiful, Indian summer weather, nearly the whole 
month of November and very mild most of December. I 
felt, and very often said, had I anticipated such a season, 
I should not have left our home. 

Two weeks from her birthday her papa was with us 
again. He remained over Monday — it was a lovely day — 
and in the afternoon we all walked down to our home. 
How sad and forlorn a home, or house looks, when bereft 


128 


STORY OF DAISY. 


of a part of its contents and forsaken by its inmates. It 
made us heart-sick, the contrast now, with its bright, 
cheerful appearance when we were all living there. 

Daisy gathered up from various places, the few little 
things she wished to take back with her, and went out- 
side while her papa and I remained, the better to arrange 
some things for winter. We spent half or three quarters 
of an hour with them, I should think, then locked the 
doors, and went into Mrs. W.’s where we expected to find 
our Daisy with Ada and Flossie. But when we asked for 
her she was not there; “had not been there.” We then 
concluded she had gone over to call on Kitty, and visited 
with Mrs. W. while waiting her return. When she came 
in soon after, I said, “where have you been, darling?” 
In a subdued manner, for her, she replied, “well mamma, 
I have been all around the dear old place, to the barn — 
the arbor — the garden, the old elm, and into every nook 
and corner where I used to go with Fido and Fawny, and 
where I have always been with the girls to play in sum- 
mer.” Her papa and I instinctively and inquisitively 
looked at each other. Why? We knew not then ; but 
not long afterward the answer pierced our hearts, as a 
dagger which takes the life ! 

We had a pleasant walk back to Mrs. K.’s, where tea 
was awaiting us. Her papa left us on the seven o’clock 
train the same evening. Shortly after some young com- 
pany came in and Daisy remained up until nine o’clock. 

The next morning, the 27th of November, found our 
darling slightly ailing — the effect, I feared, of her walk 
about the home grounds without rubbers (which I did 
not then know) the previous afternoon. 

With simple remedies and good nursing I thought 
kindly nature would soon restore her, and therefore called 
no physician until the following Sunday evening, when 
she seemed to be growing worse rather than better. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


129 


We were quite startled when the doctor announced 
"‘symptoms of typhoid fever!” That such a fearful 
disease should get possession of our darling, was a terrible 
thought to me, and I eagerly took hope from the expres- 
sion that ‘ ‘ it might be broken up. ’ ’ But for two or three 
weeks she was quite ill — subject to the varying phases of 
the disease, sometimes seeming a little better, then with- 
out any apparent cause, much worse. 

My mother-heart had dark fore-bodings, and as I re- 
called her recent visit to our home, an indefinable feeling 
of fear took possession of me, that she was then making 
her farewell visit to the place she so dearly loved. 

Her papa had a similar feeling; said to me, “Should 
she never get w^ell, Mary, fire could not burn it out of our 
souls, that a premonition that it was to be her last visit, 
unconsciously to herself, perhaps, inspired her to go all 
over the dear old haunts ! ’ ’ 

She was con.stantly cheerful, and hopeful — very 
happy, indeed, in the expectation of soon being restored 
to health and school, and all the enjoyments which a win- 
ter spent up town had promised her. 

I have before me a little smooth square piece of board 
which she had had to play with at home, but which she 
took up to Mrs. K.’s to lay her paper on when she 
wrote her French exercises : it was just for the novelty 
of course, for she had a “port-folio,” and “secretary” 
both of her own which she could have used, but it suited 
her fancy to have this ! On this little board she wrote 
the following lines, she tells how she happened to write 
them — it was one Saturday afternoon. 

“December i6th, 1870. I am not very sick now, but I 
have had a run of fever, and have been confined in bed 
for more than two weeks. ‘ ‘ This is the first writing I 
have done. I am lying partly on my back, and partly 
on my side, with the board on my arm. I can’t tell 
whether the lines are straight or not.: I am inclined to 


130 


STORY OF DAISY. 


think they are not, but I cannot see to do any better, as 
the board has been lying flat. I don’t suppose I would 
have written at all, only papa has just given me a nice 
long pencil. 

Daisy with the arm-ache.” 

These few lines are not much, and yet how sweetly 
she represents herself, lying there so patiently, with a 
quiet happiness all around her. And as she thus pic- 
tures herself, or as she seems to me to, and as I remem- 
ber she was while writing, thus was she during all her 
illness — calm, patient, hopeful and happy. Happy if 
there alone with me, happier of course to have her papa 
with her, but not murmuring when it was necessary for 
him to be away. And if we thought best to have any of 
her little friends come in, happy to see them, but content 
even not to see them. 

The writing those few lines, and looking over some 
picture books, “The Birds of America,” sent in to enter- 
tain her, seemed to have been quite exhausting to her, 
or perhaps it was from some, to me, unknown cause that 
she appeared much worse for a few days. 

She had eagerly looked forward to getting well by 
Christmas as she had expected to spend the holidays at 
the old home. She said to her Aunt Dottie, who often 
and anxiously came to see her, that she would have to 
make extra preparations for Christmas dinner if she con- 
sulted her anticipated appetite. And yet she would 
refuse, if I offered her more than the very meager allow- 
ance of nourishment prescribed by the physician, (which 
I now think was unwise) as she would do nothing that 
might possibly be a hindrance to her recovery. But the 
nights passed without the needed refreshment, and the 
days slipped away filled only with the hope of restoration 
to health for our darling. She had commenced some 
Christmas presents for her papa and me, and some others 


STORY OF DAISY. 


I3I 

and it was a sore trial and disappointment not to be able 
to finish them. 

She had them brought to the bed, looked wistfully 
and regretfully at them and up to me with such sadness 
in her sweet face because of their unfinished condition ! 
But I assured her they were just as acceptable as though 
all perfected, that never could we have presents for which 
we should be more thankful. That seemed to please and 
satify her. She became much interested in Christmas 
events — what was to occur with others — and especially 
what was to take place in Mrs. K’s family, I being able 
to tell her of some happy surprises in preparation for Jen- 
nie. After our darling was finally asleep the night before 
Christmas, I carefully arranged all her little presents on 
a stand at the foot of her bed, as I had done when she 
was a small child, so that her eyes would rest on them 
the first thing when she awoke in the morning. They 
did, and brightened with surprise and delight as she looked 
from one to the other, and lovingly at us; and sweet ex- 
pressions of grateful appreciation greeted our ears and 
deeply touched our hearts. 

First in attraction, and most unlooked for to her, was 
a tiny clock for her own little room at home, we told her. 
It was a perfect little gem and wonder to her, with its 
pure white face in its gilt and ebony surroundings. 
“Now,” said she, “when Kitty comes to see me, we shall 
have no trouble to know when the time is up for her to 
go home.” 

Several other things were most pleasing to her, be- 
sides being loVingly remembered with beautiful gifts and 
kindly greetings from Mrs. K’s family and many other 
friends. 

As I have said, our room had a very pleasant outlook, 
and it was an agreeable diversion for her sometimes to 
watch the people passing on the opposite side of the 


132 


STORY OF DAISY. 


street, and a special pleasure it gave her to see the chil- 
dren going to and frotn school. And when little flurries 
of snow came, making nice coasting on the sidewalk, she 
would listen to the voices under the window and sa}', — 
“Mamma, there is Mary, or Kitty,” sometimes Bell, or 
Flo, or Ettie, and so on. My heart would feel very heav}" 
for her then, and I fancied a little shadow on her pale 
face. But it was only my fancy, I presume, for she never 
complained in the least — never expressed a desire to be 
out with them, as it would seem most natural for a child 
who had always enjoyed such sport as much as she. 

I was with her constantly, and a great deal of the time 
alone, as the greatest quiet possible was best for her. 
Thus the hours so still, and she without much pain, 
seemed to glide happily away with her. She would often 
say, “Mamma, how happy I am,” and sometimes add, 
“I am so happy it makes me cryV’ and the tears would 
steal down her pale, thin cheeks while she was smiling at 
me! It was a nervous exaltation, partly, at such times, 
I suppose, or the pure white life of the spirit, the supre- 
macy of the soul over matter. Mrs K. often spoke of 
her constant brightness and cheerfulness, — said it did not 
seem like going into a sick room to come into hers. She 
never showed any impatience at her long confinement, 
nor any doubt of her recovery — said one day, “Mamma, 
I have never thought but that the doctor will take me 
through this sickness, but I sometimes think it will take 
a long time to make me well. ’ ’ 

As she lay there in the soft pleasant light one evening, 
she thus pictured herself in her recovery: “Mamma, I 
have been thinking how much I shall enjoy it, when I 
get well enough to be dressed and sit up a part of the 
time, and just lie on the sofa when I have to lie down. I 
will have on my new wrapper, and everything all tidy 
and nice, and you will read to me, and brood over me, 


STORY OF DAISY. 1 33 

and it will be so pleasant, and we shall be so happy, woiit 
we mamma?” 

“Yes, darling,” I replied most fondly, and with a 
deeper anxiety for the realization of such an experience 
than she could anticipate, or I would have her know. 
Her papa was very much disheartened at times, took me 
aside a few mornings previous to this and said, “Mary, 
our darling is failing — she is going from us, I fear. We 
shall have to school ourselves to the thought of giving her 
upl” My heart cried out, “No, no, I cannot give her up 
— and all the love within me rose up, and said I cannot, 
will not let her go ! Yet in thy great strength and mighti- 
ness, Oh, Human Love! how weak, how utterly weak 
and powerless in a battle for thy precious ones with stern, 
irresistible death! We -had our heart struggle there 
alone, deep and terrible — how deep and terrible none 
may know, save those who have gone down to the brink 
of the same dark flood. But our darling must see no 
despair — know no fear, nor the shadow of one, so we 
went back calm, and cheerful-looking even, to her. 

We may know that the one law of love pervades the 
universe, and that finite wisdom may not doubt or ques- 
tion the larger wisdom which speaks through the pre- 
vailing order manifest in all things, still in the most try- 
ing personal experience of life, in our blindness and 
ignorance, we do question why I and are not able to 
translate the seeming evil into the higher good. 

The heart is blind and 
Closed to all but love. 

New Year’s came with kindly greetings and many 
pleasant mementoes for our darling — perhaps the one 
most warmly welcomed being a beautiful bouquet, greatly 
surpassing in rare lovely flowers with delightful fragrance, 
all she had recieved during her sickness. 

Flowers seemed to be dearer and sweeter than ever 
before, if possible. “Her little hanging-basket,” filled 


134 


STORY OF DAISY. 


with mosses, vines and wild-flowers which she gathered 
in the woods herself, besides some choice plants, we took 
up to Mrs. K’s with us, but had not kept in our room 
during her illness. She was interested to know if the 
basket was doing well. In my heart, though not ex- 
pressed, was an ominous no, as all its beautiful greenery 
through exposure had been robbed of its fragrant life. A 
sad augury to my apprehensive soul. 

The last few days we had been a little more hopeful — 
she had been allowed more food, and seemed to be gain- 
ing somewhat in strength. I was with her constantly, 
only leaving the room long enough to take my meals, and 
yet, brief time as it was, I recall now with a sad fondness 
the question with which she always greeted me when I 
returned. 

“Mamma, what makes you gone so long?” I could 
only say, ‘ ‘darling, mamma came just as soon as possible. ’ ’ 
Little did she know — no one but a mother can — the anxiety- 
which seemed to lengthen and torture the few moments I 
was obliged to be out of her sight — away from her side. 

The afternoon of the 4th of January, however, I was 
absent from her about an hour. She insisted then on my 
going out for a walk, would not be content until she saw 
me with my wraps on. It was the only time that I left 
her to go out on the street since her illness, and I went 
then with the greatest reluctance, although her papa was 
to remain with her. To seek fresh air and sunshine and 
leave her shut in from the brightness and joy took 
away all the pleasure of the thought. And yet for her 
sake, I should have coveted every breath the sweet 
heavens had to bestow, that the renewal of strength might 
enable me the better to care for her. 

The next morning she complained of her throat feeling 
very strangely. We were much alarmed at such an inti- 
mation, as diphtheria was prevailing as never before in 


STORY OF DAISY. 


135 


town — considered almost epidemic. The doctor was sum- 
moned immediate ty. Noting the symptoms he pronounced 
the new phase that terrible disease. Our darling as she 
heard the fearful announcement, turned to us with a 
stricken look, tears coming to her eyes and said, “Oh, 
have I got to have that ! ’ ’ And never another despairing 
look or word in regard to it, during all her dreadful suf- 
fering, lasting nearly two weeks. 

The most eminent counsel said hers was a very severe 
ahd most unusual case, with doubtful appearance as to 
termination, but every day she remained, added greatly 
to the probabilities of her recovery. So we waited and 
watched in trembling suspense, and almost despairing 
hope. Hours I sat by her bed, in the daytime even, the 
windows darkened, as she slept — hardly making a move- 
ment, merely sat there listening to her labored breathing, 
and silently, tearfully praying as the perilous hours crept 
by that in the m3^sterious workings of nature, health and 
strength were being evolved in the dear wasted form. 
She was permitted more alimenation — could have all the 
milk she desired. We hoped through that she would 
acquire sufficient strength to overcome the terrible dis- 
ease. And we had the inexprevSsible satisfaction after 
three most trying weeks, with extreme suffering, and 
patient endurance on her part, of feeling that our brave 
little girl w^as truly the conqueror ! Thanksgivings un- 
utterable filled our hearts as we felt our darling was 
almost given to us anew. 

All feverish symptoms gradually disappearing, she was 
promised a great variety of food, and took much pleasure 
in noting the ‘ ‘ bill of fare ’ ’ her papa had prepared for 
her, and deciding what she would ‘ ‘ order. ’ ’ 

The dear little girl had not realized how very sick she 
was, until one day when she was getting better, she took 
hold of her little wrist and holding it up to me, said, 


136 


STORY OF DAISY. 


“why, see mamma, it isn’t thicker than a chicken’s 
wing ! ’ ’ and I felt that a sad look shadowed her pale face 
for an instant. 

She had been very reluctant to be moved, or having 
any change about the room, after the last disease came 
upon her, and when she expressed a desire to be placed 
in a chair once more, it wais hailed with the greatest 
pleasure by us. One day when reclining in one, her papa 
handed her a pencil and a bit of paper saying, “Daughty 
do you think you could write your name?” She smiled, 
wrote it tremblingly of course, but pleased to be able to 
gratify her papa so much. After we all looked at it, she 
threw it carelessly aside ; but when she was not observing 
I picked it up and put it in my sewing-box. Three or 
four days after, she happened to want the box for some- 
thing, and although I had put the bit of paper in the 
most unused place there was, she discovered it, and with 
a look and tone of keenest ridicule she called out “Oh, 
papa! don’t you think mamma put that scrap of paper, 
and awful writing away very choicely in her sewing-box?’’ 
The papa made light of it with her of course, but the little 
scrap of paper with the tremulous marks in the dear name, 
is still “choicely put away in the box!’’ and it is some- 
times sacredly pressed to the lips and cheek once carressed 
by the dear little hand that wrote it. 

She also wanted her own boxes containing her collars, 
ribbons, worsted and work brought to her bed — one a day, 
until she had looked them over, and as she said, “put 
them in order.’’ 

They are still in order — the impress and influence of 
her sweet self resting silently within them. 


STORY OF DAISY. 


137 


CHAPTER XXII. 


During much of the time of our Daisy’s sickness, dear 
Jennie was making preparations for her marriage, which 
was soon to take place. The 2nd of February, the day 
which saw her a lovely bride, when ready to leave home, 
she came in to bid Daisy “good-by,” as she was to go 
from the church to the cars, and on to Washington. 
After the parting kiss, and when Jennie had passed out 
of the door, my darling’s tender feelings quite overcame 
her. She realized the important event, the great change 
that was coming to her young friend, that she was really 
in a certain sense to lose her. As I kissed away the 
tears she said to me, “Mamma, I wanted to say more to 
Jennie, but I could not speak.” I replied, “You can say 
it all darling, when she comes back.” We then moved 
her bed up to the window — that she might see the wed- 
ding party as it passed by on its way to the cars. Poor 
Jennie! It was the only time she was to ride through 
the town a happy wife ! She passed on to Washington to 
spend three trying weeks by the sick and dying bedside 
of her devoted lover and husband, and then to, return 
with his “precious remains” a broken-hearted, widowed 
bride ! Wildly would our darling have wept, could she 
have known the sad fate awaiting her dear Jennie ! But 
we alone were left to weep for, and with the stricken 
bereft wife; as the Death Angel’s wing shut out the 
dearest light on earth to us, even as it swept with direful 
touch above the couch of the youthful lover and husband. 
Yet hopes were bright for our darling on that seemingly 
auspicious wedding morn, as were those of the youthful. 


138 


STORY OF DAISY. 


loving pair whose long and delightful future .seemed 
wreathed with promised joys as sweet and fair as ever 
lover dreamed. And after that even, the halo of hopeful 
expectations brightened many days, but at last the sad 
knowledge was forced upon us, that a slow^ paralysis was 
creeping over our darling, and with that it was soon 
apparent, there was a waning of the newly acquired 
strength. She, however, if conscious of the fact, said 
nothing about it. 

Her papa had often said to her as she so nobly, and un- 
complainingly passed through many severe trials attend- 
ing her sickness, and in all showing so much self-helpful- 
ness — “ you are a brave little daughty — never shall we 
forget what a brave little daughty you have been all 
through this long severe sickness.” Then a gleam of 
pleasure, would light up her eye, a sweet satisfied expres- 
sion visit her pale face, as she was thus often made to 
realize our appreciation of her noble endurance. 

I had most of the time kept up my habit of reading a 
little to her almost every day — when I stopped one after- 
noon, thinking that she ought not to hear any more just 
then, she said — mamma, I wish Aunt Tottie was here, 
sitting right there, you and she talking — I feel kind of 
social to-day. There was doubtless a conscious change 
creeping over her — a different experience from anything 
previously felt — she knew not what it meant, neither did 
I then. She had an unnatural anxious look, as though 
she wanted to get new hold of something — felt the need 
of something she hardly knew what. She talked much 
of relatives and friends with a longing kind of feeling — 
spoke about going up to the old home — and to her cous- 
in’s to see Fawny, and Zep, the colt, she could also see. 
She began to feel, I think, as I now look back upon what 
she said, as though she would like to bring near to her 
all the absent, and whatever was dearest, and through 


STORY OF DAISY. 


139 


change and love, and contact, she might perhaps, imbibe 
somewhat of their strength. 

She said to me the same night, “ Mamma, please come 
into bed with me once more, it will be so sweet to be cod- 
dled in the same old way.” I was but too happy to be 
thus near my darling, and try to soothe her to sleep; 
but there was a power at work in the dear little form be- 
yond the control of the mother’s usual quieting influence, 
and with what an anxious heart 1 realized the terrible fact. 

The next day our friend ” Licia,” who had not been 
able to call before, came in. She was greatly astonished 
at her emaciated appearance. Our darling, I think, de- 
tected somewhat the impression made upon her, as she 
asked her if she ‘ ‘ looked as bad as she expected to see 
her. ’ ’ I silently appealed for anything but a discouraging 
word, when she an.swered, ‘ ‘ I see no loss in the brightness 
of your eyes, Daisy; nothing can get those from you, my 
dear.” 

Notwithstanding our fears and anxieties, the physician 
constantly assured us there was no new cause for alarm, 
paralysis often attending diphtheria — it would only great- 
ly procrastinate recovery. We then decided if possible to 
go back to our home, told our darling we hoped by the next 
week we could take her on a bed in a close carriage down 
there. She was so delighted and excited at the thought 
of getting back to her dear home once more, she could 
get no sleep, nor hardly any rest or quiet until long after 
the usual time. Her new wrapper, that had been making, 
was not finished as soon as anticipated, and she began to 
express some eagerness to see it. When it came it was 
evening. I lighted all the burners to make it almost 
day, and held it up for her to see. She had its position 
changed many times, and seemed to strain her eyes, make 
a great effort to get a good view, but from the expression 
on her face I felt that it was not at all satisfactory. A fear 


140 


STORY OF DAISY. 


that almost stilled the beating of my heart came over me 
that the dear bright eyes were losing their power and 
quickness to see. She finally asked me to “lay it on the 
sofa with the belt around it, as though there is a little girl 
in it, for papa to see when he comes in!” He came soon, 
noticed the manner in which the little garment was dis- 
posed y^ith an inquiring look, which I answered, when he 
expressed great admiration for it, and hoped to see the 
little daughter in it soon, all of which was most gratify- 
ing to her. The next day, much to our surprise, she was 
desirous to have the wrapper on and be put in the large 
arm-chair. We felt if it was possible it must be done, as 
her wish, if it would not be injurious to her, had been 
our law all through her sickness. '• Her papa had often 
said when she expressed a desire for anything, “Yes, 
daughty, you are the autocrat in this little room.” 

So in the afternoon she was gratified by being seated 
in the big arm chair with a wrapper on. She must have 
it all buttoned up, and the belt on — with collar and pin, 
and when all was done, she called for a mirror to see her- 
self. A grave, wan little face greeted her eyes as she 
looked into it ! I wondered how she seemed to herself so 
thin and deathly looking, to us ! But not a word ; after 
looking silently for an instant or two, she turned away. 
With what yearning I looked at the wasted little figure, 
trying to fortify itself by supporting the appearance of 
life, and longed to know the thoughts and feelings of the 
precious soul then fluttering between the shores of time 
and the great hereafter. 

From that on, declining changes came but too swiftly. 
Yet the next day when her friend Kitty called, she gave 
her an old time greeting so far as strength would permit ; 
and the inspiration of former bright associations seemed 
to quicken anew the pulsations of her heart for a little 
time; she told Kitty she was “getting in a hurry to have a 


STORY OF DAISY. 


I4I 

ride on the cars ; ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ wanted very much to hear Anna 
Dickinson’s lecture,” which was to be given in two or 
three weeks. And Kitty recalled many bits of enjoy- 
ment and funny incidents of the past which brought a gleam 
of pleasure into the dear little face. 

After Kitty was gone she recalled a promise of two 
weeks before — that on that day she was to be taken down 
to the parlor. Said to her papa, “what time are you 
going to take me down, papa?” “Why, Daughty,” he 
replied, “do you think you can go? How can I carry 
you, when it hurts you to be moved?” She hesitatingly 
replied, “well, papa, I guess I shall have to wait.” 

I can but think that she felt she was losing her hold 
of things — of life itself, perhaps, yet with hardly a con- 
scious recognition what it was, and therefore she wanted 
to reassure herself by doing something she had anticipated 
doing — getting a reality out of what had been an expecta- 
tion — thus establishing a renewed feeling of strength and 
security. 

As the day waned she grew more restless ; woi;-e a most 
imploring pitiful look ! I said to her ‘ ‘ what can mamma 
do, darling?” “Oh, I don’t know mamma, please lie 
down beside me a little while. ’ ’ She leaned her little 
forehead against mine, and after a moment or two said, 
“ mamma it soothes me so to have you close by me!” 
But nothing availed long. Our almost only hope for 
respite to the day’s weariness, was, that the usual time 
for sleep might bring the needed rest. She also hoped it 
might come then. When the door was finally closed for 
the night and the gas turned down, she said “ mamma 
bring the big chair close up to the bed — I so love to have 
you near me. I am never so happy as when you are 
close by me. I have been so happy all through my sick- 
ness, mamma, to have you over me, and around me all 
the while; come close up, mamma!” she repeated as I 


142 


STORY OF DAISY. 


neared the bed. I drew the big chair close to the bed, 
and took the dear little hand in my own with such a fond, 
pitiful feeling, with such a grief at my heart, it was near 
to bursting, yet apparently calm, and cheerful for the 
dear one’s sake. I waited and watched for sleep to come 
to the poor, tired body, and she hoped and struggled for 
it, but it came not. I^ate in the night, as her papa and I 
stood near, w^earing, doubtless, a distressed sympathetic 
look, while convulsive heavings of the chest and terrible 
struggling for breath were hers, she tried to relieve us 
by sa3dng — “don’t mind it — I guess it isn’t so hard to 
bear as it looks to be ! ’ ’ 

The long delaying dawn at last glimmered in the 
east, but hardly had the fullness of day gladdened the 
outer world, when a terrible spasm seized our precious 
one, and for a moment the wheels of life seemed stopped! 
But not ye^l As the struggle passed off, her papa said to 
her, ‘ ‘ Daughter, if we thought you would be no better — 
could not get through, would you like to have us tell 
3^011?’’ She looked at him calmly, silently, as if weigh- 
ing his words, then firml3% emphatically replied “No!” 
feeling we thought, that she wished to hear nothing that 
might tend to lessen her energies in the one direction. 

Her papa said no more — he had felt through the night 
that he would like to speak to her of what might come. I 
said, “Do so, if you desire and think best — I cannot— I 
shall let her pass on if she must, in the hope at least that 
she may get w^ell here.” 

The terrible day passed without a murmur — a few 
words now and then — “Please sit down, mamma,” when 
she did not need me — or, ‘ ‘ thank you ’ ’ to others kindly 
assisting in caring for her. Toward evening she said to 
her uncle and auntie who were in — “Three months tomor- 
row!” only that — but we knew what she meant — three 
months since she was taken sick. And two or three 


STORY OF DAISY. 


143 


times, she sighed “I am so tired!” So tired darling, no 
sleep nor rest for nearly thirty-six hours, how could the 
dear wasted little body endure so long 1 Counseling 
physicians and warmest friendly interest and aid, availed 
nothing. 

The day at last, with its trembling, waning hopes, and 
painful struggles was ended, and night with its broad 
blackened wings enveloped the earth in darkness, lighted 
only with the faint gleams of the pitying stars; and over 
our little home world there settled a darkness through 
which not even a star gleam could then penetrate to our 
bedimmed eyes. 

Helpless, in trembling agony -w^ stood in the presence 
of the great mystery, and saw our darling pass on alone. 

To us, to me at least, the world seemed to end there, 
and then the all of life here went out with the fading 
breath of our one precious darling child. 

The only ray which might pierce the utter darkness, 
must come from the immortal shore. 

The only solace which might reach the stricken heart 
the thought that 

“’Tis not within the force of fate 
The fate conjoined to separate,” 

and that — 

“What is excellent 
As God lives is permanent ; 

Hearts are dust, heart’s loves remain ; 

Heart’s love will meet thee again.” 


1 




vV 1 Vii? . 








STORY OF DAISY. 


H5 


CYPRESS LEAVES. 


MARCH. 

/ 

0 night ! So lone ; so chill, so full of deep 
And bitter agony of soul, how can 

Ye come with moon and stars unto a world 
So void, so empty all of love’s sweet joy ! 

How can ye wear the same bright, beaming face. 

And grandly march along your ’customed way. 

Nor pause to note the wrecking of a home. 

The quenching of a light more sweet and fair 

Than all the gems which make your glittering crown? 

Ye seem to mock my woe ! and yet, I look 

Into the clear, calm moonlight, and I see 

It soft, in silent pity sweet enfold 

The new-made grave where rests the lovely form 

My yearning arms are reaching after all 

The long, long hours. And tremblingly the stars 

Seem now in sympathy to look upon 

The same dear, sacred place. Yet white and cold 

The bed, and shrill the fierce winds chilling cry 

Which moans above the precious head, and comes 

Across the drifted snow, with piercing wail 

Unto my aching heart. I feel no warmth 

Within, without — all, all is cold and drear. 

1 see no gleam of promise or of hope. 

With frozen crystals, deep my eyes are veiled 
And all is changed and full of blank despair. 

O! deepest darkness, and ’most bitter death ! 


146 


STORY OF DAISY. 


APRIL. 

This long, long spring has seemed to me but one 
Unending, dim, funeral day ! There is 
A hushed and Sabbath stillness in the air ; 

A veiled and somber look thd sunshine wears : 

And the ceaseless singing of the early birds 
Seems distant all, and hollow to my soulM 
The budding flowers look forth then sadly droop 
Their little heads as if they sadly missed 
A loving hand, and tender, watchful eye ! 

The guardian trees put forth their opening leaves 
But brood no more^ above the happy child 
Who gladly sought their loving shade. The step 
So light and fleet is wanting evermore 
On graveled walk, and ’bove the newly, green 
Clad earth. The voice more musical and sweet 
Than ever song bird’s happiest tone, is hushed 
Forever to my listening ear, and all 
The former haunts, and dear retreats are lone 
And voiceless now, save as the echoes of 
Her farewell linger still around the home 
She loved so well. Home, home alas, no more. 

So reft, so lone, so silent all and changed ! 

A dark and heavy grief seems resting down 
Upon the earth, and palls the sky ! The world 
I knew seems gone away ! or all the world 
I see to day, is but a little mound 

Where sleeps ’neath springing grass and creeping vine 

My darling only child ! I see the long 

Fringed eyelids drooping o’er the once bright eyes. 

So deeply beautiful with love-light and 

With soul; while all the wealth of golden, brown 

Bright hair is lying in rich waves adown 

Her neck and shoulders. Oh ! how calm and sweet 

And beautiful in robes of white, with flowers 


STORY OF DAISY. 


147 


Enwreathing brow, and softly nestling in 
The still and throbless bosom, rests she now 
In all her fresh and angel purity. 

In Death’s last, deep un waking sleep! 

MAY. 

The first, sweet little daisy blossom, soft 
Unclosed its tender eye for me today. 

I could but kneel beside it, kiss it for 
Her sake, and grieve that she who placed it there 
And hoped to see its coming bright, no more 
Might hail the sister flower, with love all deep 
And warm, no more might greet the greening joy 
And beauty of all lovely things, no more 
Might share the joyful overflow with which 
Sweet spring bedecks the new-born earth, nor come 
Again to bless with smile or tear our lone 
And darkly-curtained, sad heart world. 

While thus 

I weeping stood, above her daisy bed 
A favorite bird, the dear song-sparrow came, 
Alighted near, and from its heart there swelled 
A wildly sweet, most thrilling, tender .song. 
Involuntarily I turned, and could 
But question, does the angel spirit of 
My darling speak through thee, thou ever dear. 
Bright little singer ? Thus the blessed one 
Would tenderly essay to banish grief. 

And gently soothe and comfort saddest heart. 

No tear e’er dimmed my eye, but, soft — “ Don’t weep 
Mamma!” and loving arms and kisses warm 
Would bring forgetfulness of all but her. 

But no more kisses — no more loving arms 
To twine around my neck, no more the sound 
Of sweetest voice, oh 1 sweeter far than thine 


148 


STORY OF DAISY. 


Dear bird, to greet my ear, no more but dark. 

And lonely wanderings to the end ! 

^ >[c iji * 

Sometimes when hands and eyes have been engaged 
In things immediate to their care and needs. 

The overwhelming loss has slipped away 

From thought an instant, then with lightening flash 

It all comes back ! a startled feeling shakes 

My frame, as the reality so dark 

And terrible glooms up and covers me 

All o’er as with a midnight pall. My heart 

Most strangely sickens, and my chamber seems 

To reel, while I am lost to everything 

But wild, mo.st terrible heart-rending pain. 

With blinding, bursting feeling my cold hands 
Clutch at the air, as though to stop the earth 
Its daily round, turn back the wheels of time 
That I may grasp the fading idol that 
Seems strangely floating on and on, away 
Forever from my fond out-reaching arms ! 

JUNE. 

How golden tender all the sunlight now 

Which floods the earth and sky. How soft, subdued 

The dying radiance, kissing hill and vale. 

And closing up the flowret’s droooing eye, 

Calming to rest the happy trilling bird. 

And breathing benediction sweet upon 
All lovely things. 

My dimming eyes look out 
Along the path, among the trees where now 
The glinting, fading light so softly beams, 

As loving longest e’er to linger ’bove 
My darling’s favored seat, but greet no more 
The precious child ! Nor comes the thrilling call 


STORY OF DAISY. 


149 


So fondly sweet, “Dear papa, mamma, come 
And see the sunset, oh! so beautiful!” 

Ah, no, the bright poetic soul has fled. 

No more that loving tone may summon us 
To share the feast of beauty, and to feel 
It doubled to our souls, reflected in 
Those beautiful, love-speaking eyes. 

Oh ! sad 

The day e’en to the earth, when passed away 
Its young and most devoted worshipper ! 

It wears e’er since a pained and saddened look 
Which e’en the sun can scarcely hide. 

But bear 

A smile if may be, dearest sunset glow 
To where in silence sweetly sleeps, the all 
For us. of light and beauty to the world. 

JUDY. 

Alone out in the soft, still evening air, 

I wander ’round familiar scenes where oft 
Her little hand in mine, or arm in arm 
We’ve strolled; her voice is murmuring in my ear, 
Her shad’wy form is by my side, but stilled 
The dancing feet which gladdened all the way. 

I upward look into the pitying face 
Of tender-beaming stars, my burdened soul 
So full of agony; and in my wild. 

Deep grief I cry across the night — O! where 
Is now my precious One! Sweet hope and faith 
Angles of mercy ever to the world 
Bright visions to the soul may bring, but love 
Pleads evermore for pulsing life and form. 

And arms reach out with throbbing pain to fold 
Her to my sobbing bosom once again. 

And thus with darkness overhead, and all 
So dark within, I wander on, and strive 


STORY OF DAISY. 


150 

To pierce the veil which only Death may rend. 

Nor heed the lesson deep that Goodness reigns. 

No faith can still the yearnings fond for thee, 

Nor stay the cry — come back my darling come! 
Dost hear sweet one ! thy poor lone mother’s moan 
If so, oh may thy newer vision, and 
Thy higher wisdom all things see most good 
And fair, and only earth- ward dark ! Oh I may’st 
Thou painless see the pain if see it e’er 
Thou canst, and I alone the burden bear. 

SKptembkr. 

To day the school year opens wide again 
Its door. The fresh September air is all 
Inviting still for romp and sport, and play 
For gay light-hearted children ; but they turn 
Aside to heed the sterner call to work. 

Yet not with cold reluctant air, as if 
To some distasteful task. The hurried step 
The cheerful voice, and happy smiling face 
Of gaily tripping little boys and girls. 

Glad welcome seem to give the da3^’s return. 

We silentl}^ have watched them long, our hearts 
Too full for words. The dearest little form 
That ever blessed the earth for us, makes not 
A part of that bright band today. One year 
Ago, and she as eagerly went forth 
With happy heart, and face aglow, with gl^d 
Expectancy. Hope led the way for her. 

And us, and all was fair and beautiful. 

We saw not then the overhanging cloud. 

Heard not the forging of the thunderbolt 1 
To-day we know its deadly shattering power. 

And sit in anquish inexpressible. 

With heart to heart, in silence we are lost 


STORY OF DAISY. 


51 


To all save th’ one great sorrow. All the light 
And joy the future had for us, went out 
When sank her star from out the opening sky. 

We wait the hidden good, so deeply veiled 
While sadly struggling through the waters and 
The darkness, for sweet resting place and light. 

NOVEMBER. 

’Tis only months since all was bright and fair 
With me; and yet, over my weary soul. 

Long ages seemingly have rolled, and borne 
Away on cruel, dark, relentless waves, 

The sweetest joy and hope which ever crowned 
A life, and left a wrecked and ruined world 
Behind. My eyes most vaguely wander ’round 
The once so dear familiar scenes, but all 
In vain. The ever bright most precious Flower 
Is faded from our sight; our darling child 
In the flush dawning of sweet girlhood life 
Is borne away on outward sweeping tide. 

And a deep desolation, all too stark 
And dread for words, fills all the chambers of 
My soul, and all the barren outer-space 
Encircling me around. I still exist, 

I breathe, and roam about as in a dream ! 

The life of life within me, all is still 

And cold! Heart beats are onl}'^ throbs of pain. 

And breathings but the pangs of a sad life 
That cannot end. 

DECEMBER. 

Another Christmas dawns ! Her little clock 

Has measured out the hours, days, weeks and months 

■Of one long year, since greeting sweet for the 

Last time from her dear lips were breathed. No more 


152 


STORY OF DAISY. 


The “merry Christmas papa, mamma dear!’” 

Shall bless our waiting ears, no more the bright,^ 

Dear vision of a happy child make glad 

Our hearts. The “Christmas Tree,” the dainty toys 

The valued gifts, and all the festive joys 

Which filled our home on this dear children ’s"day,. 

Rise up before me now, as silently 

I wander round the lone forsaken rooms ! 

The bounding step, the merry singing voice, 

The busy hands, the loving eye are gone, 

All gone 1 Deep stillness, or the echo of 
My own all slow, most weary footsteps are 
My onlj' greeting. And with sighings like 
The sobbing winds without, and burning tears 
Which flow as falleth now the rain, my heart 
Keeps murmuring Oh ! pity kindly heaven ! 

Took down with tender pity evermore 
Upon the childless home at Christmas time I 








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